To Win Back A Love Lost
by ForTheSakeOfApathy
Summary: Wolfram has always been a rash person, but no one expected him to go as far as this. A note in the night. Where is Wolf now? Attacks and arrests. How can he prove his innocence? Yuuram. Please read and review. T for safety (may go up). Edited and reuploaded.
1. TWBALL

___Thank you for your UNDULY long wait. And thank you for all the reviews and requests that I continue. You all have gotten me back into writing. I've seriously lacked resolve to finish any of my stories recently because of my bad experience with my creative writing teacher trying to change my style. All the reviews and PMs have seriously reassured me that I don't need to change my style so drastically. Thank you.  
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___I've also been very busy trying to start an online shop to sell handmade costume accessories designed and put together by me. (If you have any questions about it, PM me.)  
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_I plan to go back and edit all the first five chapters and re upload them before I add the new chapter. _

Kyo Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

1

To say that Wolfram von Bielefeld was vexed and annoyed was a sore understatement. He knew he should have more faith in his fiancé, but there was no way he could make himself more forgiving. So here he sat in the corner while the ball that Gunter set up as a stupid ploy to maintain international connections swirled all around him.

It wasn't so much the ball itself that had Wolfram in a bad mood. On the contrary, the ball would be a wonderful chance for him to wait on his fiancé like was supposed to happen before an engagement. But no, not for Wolfram von Bielefeld. _He _sat alone in the corner watching as his love greeted and chatted with foreign leaders and ambassadors and sulking. He would permit some breathing room in the cases of Flurin Gilbert, and even Stoffel von Spitzweg. He could let those encounters slide. Epecially because Flurin only saw Yuuri as a friend- or not a love interest in any case-, and Stoffel only groveled like this when around Yuuri because he was trying to reinstate his name in the Maoh's favor. No, Wolfram could let those pass, along with many of the other leaders who were invited to the ball. What he could not overlook was the beautiful man who drew the attention of most in the room, male and female. The Maoh also seemed drawn to him seeing as the two had been talking for _quite_ some time now.

Yuuri claimed that the perfect man was simply his friend, but his fiancé had never trusted the man. The first time they had met, both nations were planning for war against Dai Shimaron. That scheming little ruler of a human kingdom had used Yuuri's power to destroy the king and cast him into the ocean. It hadn't been in his plans that the King would survive. Next, he had the nerve to send one of his men, Belias, to impede the way of the group made up of most of the Maoh's personal body guards. Only when that man had been taken into hold at Covenant Castle did the blonde beauty dare to venture to Shin Makoku, talking his way into Yuuri's favor once more. Yes, this was the king of Small Shimaron. None other than Saraluegi.

Wolfram hated that man. No matter what he wore in any situation, he could pull it off and make him appear just _so_. Not a blemish on his skin, not a single dark streak in his bleached hair, and the ability to look absolutely fantastic in anything. It was ridiculous! But even more than _that, _Wolfram hated him because he took up so much of the Maoh's attention when the two were together. Yuuri was _never_ like that when he spoke with his fiancé. _Never. _Now, the fire mazoku had never been a very calm person, nor had he ever been very placid in his reactions, but even so, Saraluegi pushed what little patience he harbored to its fullest and then some. Honestly, the soldier would like nothing less than to attack the blonde ruler where he stood, but he was stupid enough to have promised Conrart he wouldn't make a scene.

Conrart Weller always knew the things to say in order to convince his little brother to do _any_thing. He stood a few feet away from the Maoh and his human companion, having been caught by Anissina von Karbelnikoff to discuss her newest invention. The half-breed looked like he would enjoy nothing more than to escape. Conrart was the middle son of Cecilie von Spitzweg, the former Maoh of Shin Makoku— Celli for short. He was a dedicated soldier, and one of the lone survivors of the Lütenberg battle. He had been born to Celli and a human swordsman. Despite looking up to Conrart when when he was younger, Wolfram disliked being around him once he had learned of his half and half genes. Though now that Yuuri was in power and forming alliances with human countries, Wolfram was beginning to relent once more.

Conrart was another of the Maoh's body guards, and accompanied the double black king everywhere, even when Wolfram was already present to serve as guard. He was also Yuuri's godfather, giving him great insight into the Maoh's mind. This always annoyed the fire mazoku because as Yuuri's fiancé _he_ should be able to see and understand more of Yuuri's thoughts than Weller. But _that's_ a story for another day.

Yuuri was just so insensitive sometimes, ya know? Sure, he was really nice to everybody in sight every second of every day, but he _really_ was insensitive. Example? Well, he _knew_ it hurt Wolfram, his _fiancé _, when he'd go and flirt with all these people. Okay, so the kid didn't _see_ it as flirting with them, but Wolfram could see it. That attraction behind the eyes of those the Maoh spoke with. If the fire mazoku wasn't there to watch out for him, the wimp would have _surely_ been kidnapped by now because of skewed messages. I mean, it's not like Yuuri's the most observant person on the planet or anything. He really was an oblivious wimp at heart. Not to say that being a wimp made him any less cute or anything. As a matter of fact, Wolfram thought the Maoh was adorable when he was an ignorant moron, and if he _wasn't_ a wimp, the youngest son of Celli wouldn't really have a job. Either way, Yuuri needed him to point out the things he didn't catch. Like how he flirted with everyone.

It was a weird feeling, the jealousy that bubbled to the forefront of Wolfram's mind whenever his fiancé talked to someone else. It existed more because Wolfram loved the Maoh than because he was envious. If he took the time to think on it, Wolfram used his jealousy as an excuse to push his love onto the other. Truly, it hurt a lot, knowing that Yuuri didn't love him the same way the mazoku loved him. Jealousy was the best excuse to show love that Wolfram could think of. Stupid as it sounds, he was frightened to full out confront the Maoh; afraid of being flat out rejected by the only being he had ever loved this violently in his long life.

In all eighty-two years of his life, the von Bielefeld had never felt like this for another living person. At first, he was outraged by the engagement. He had never been so offended in his life! This man just appeared out of nowhere and proposed to him within the first _day_ they had ever even known of each other's existence. It was more humiliation than the blonde could handle. But then, gradually, this double black child began to grow on him, despite his stupid wimpiness.

Even so, Yuuri was full heartedly against the engagement. He couldn't take it back or Wolfram would kill him for disrespecting the noble so harshly, so he grit his teeth and bore it. It was easy to read that Yuuri felt no more for the blonde than loving him as a friend. Any moron off the streets could tell that. All they'd have to do is look at his face when he talked to Wolfram. He was repulsed by the arrangement. And who could blame him? On his Earth, any feelings between two men that went any further than friendship were "homo". Yuuri wasn't "homo". He could never love Wolfram. If the blonde had been a _girl_ he was sure the Maoh would have no problem with the circumstances that surrounded the proposal. Yuuri had even said so in the past. But no, the mazoku was a man. A man _decades_ older than the Maoh, none the less! Yuuri wouldn't learn to love him; he wouldn't even try. Wolfram knew this and accepted it. It would be easier on everyone if Wolfram just broke the engagement and left the Maoh's personal guards. Yuuri would be happier too. He wouldn't have to share a bed, or deal with the blonde's antics any more. He'd be saved from the embarrassment that the blond caused at social events or when he visited leaders of allied nations. It might make him sad to lose a friend, but in the long run, it really would be better if Wolfram wasn't engaged to him.

And just like that, Wolfram made up his mind. He _had_ always been a rash person, but this time at least he was sure that his hasty decision would be the right choice. Yuuri wouldn't have to put up with him, and it was _bound_ to lift stress from the Maoh's mind. The fire wielder slipped out of the ball room, unnoticed by everyone.

* * *

_Dear Lord von Voltaire,_

_I have recognized that it is not in Shin Makoku's best interests that I continue to work as a guard for His Majesty, the twenty-seventh Maoh of the great nation of Shin Makoku. I hereby write to inform you and His Majesty of my resignation and my will to rejoin the military forces. I have already seen to my admission to the boarder forces. I shall join the regiments in the South come morning. I have taken my horse with me to travel to the Southern borders, so as to avoid further work for the soldiers of Covenant Castle. I take my leave immediately. _

_Here, I also submit and dissolve the bonds that hold together my heart and that of His Majesty. With my departure my engagement to the Maoh will be broken. _

_Sealed in the name of the Great First King Shinou,_

_Wolfram von Bielefeld_

* * *

And so the letter read.

The owner of the note held the paper to his chest, eyes closed, for less than a second before placing it carefully onto desk of his eldest brother's office. Standing quickly, tears leaked down his fair skinned cheeks before the soldier turned his back to the desk. It was better this way. For them both. Yuuri was no longer trapped in a relationship he never wanted, and Wolfram would no longer have his heart repeatedly broken.

"Goodbye, Yuuri," the soldier whispered to the entryway as he stood before the heavy doors of Covenant Castle before slipping out. He entered the house barn with as little sound as possible given the rusting hinges on the door. The guard inside was fast asleep. Wolfram loosed his horse and saddled her with supplies he had nicked prior to his goodbye. With any luck, he would be too far away for the Maoh and his escort to reach by the time the note was discovered. The white stallion snorted as the man swung himself into place onto his snow white back. With a small whisper from the von Bielefeld, the stallion left the barn at a full speed gallop, and they were off into the night.

"Goodbye, Yuuri," the blonde Mazoku repeated, tears falling into the horses white mane as the two left Covenant Castle somewhere behind them in the black expanse of the night.

* * *

Word Count: 1, 851


	2. TWBALL 2

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

2

_He __had__ always been a rash person, but this time at least he was sure that his hasty decision would be the right choice…_

* * *

The cool night air lay still and heavy as the soldier ate and rested. His white stallion stood nearby, not tied to anything, but he knew when to wait. The blonde by the fire wondered if his stupid wimp of a fiancé and brothers had found the note announcing the mazoku's departure yet. How would they respond? Surely the Maoh would approach it calmly. Better yet, he'd probably figure it was Wolfram's business and let him leave. It just sounded so like something Yuuri would do.

"_Well, I'm sure he had a _reason_for leaving, so I think we should let him deal with it himself. He'll come back when everything is sorted out._" It was just the sort of thing the double black king would reason. Yuuri would never love Wolfram. It would never be reciprocated. Wolfram would die alone and forgotten for he was _sure _he wouldn't be able to move on as hard as he would try. The Maoh was just too sweet. He was Wolfram's first love. Wolfram had crushes previously, but never a true _love _until Yuuri. There was no way that he could simply move on and forget about the Earth-born brat.

Not that Wolfram wouldn't _try_ to forget. Yuuri hated their engagement; he may have even disliked the mazoku for using it as an excuse to get closer. The Maoh was as much a homophobe as the mazoku could manipulate fire. There was absolutely no question to it. He could never love the noble as long as they were both men. And Wolfram had considered _that _option as well. What if he became a woman? Would Yuuri like him better? Yuuri had always joked that he would be wide open to the engagement had Wolfram been a girl. The blond mazoku had even gone and talked to Anissina about whether it was possible to change a man into a woman. Of course, he had worded it as if he were simply trying to support her WOMEN ARE SUPREME movement. Anissina had taken an unnerving interest in the notion, but admitted that she could not think of a way to transition a male into a female. The Von Bielefeld was sure that changing his sex and becoming a woman wouldn't have helped Yuuri and his relationship anyway. Leaving the castle was the only way it could have worked out.

He did it for Yuuri. The Maoh wouldn't have to put up with him anymore. Covenant Castle wouldn't have to put up with all the wreckage caused when Wolfram got angry. Everyone would be fine. Well, everyone except Wolfram himself, but he was a soldier. He could push his own happiness to the side for the sake of Shin Makoku and her Maoh. He couldn't think of anyone who would come after him either. Not with Yuuri decreeing that they should let Wolfram work it out for himself. All the better! Just like his mother always said, perhaps it was time to give free love a shot! Who needed engagements when you could have a much better time with someone new you have no ties to?

And yet, Wolfram knew he could never love another but for his Maoh.

* * *

_Wolfram von Bielefeld…_

* * *

"Explain this!" Yuuri yelled spinning to face his godfather. Wolfram's parting note brandished in his hand. The Maoh was beyond angry. His fiancé—or now _ex_-fiancé—had always been rash and assumed things without learning the truth, but _this_? The double black king never expected the blonde to go _this _far. Calling him a cheater, a wimp, and a two-timer had been okay because Yuuri always managed to clear up the misunderstanding. With _this _there was no possibility of clearing it up. Wolfram was already gone. The Maoh had a note to keep him company, now. And all of it was Yuuri's fault. How would he ever recover from that? No, he already knew what he had to do. He had to go and find Wolfram and drag him back. But, it was necessary for someone else to at least hint at it. Yuuri wasn't sure why that was necessary, but he wanted to know that he wasn't the only one thinking it. After all, he wasn't the only noble mazoku who did foolish things for love.

"Your Majesty, Wolfram is just being his usual rash self," Gwendal sighed, rubbing his temple. A headache was coming on. He could almost sense Yuuri's outburst approaching.

"Your Ma—Yuuri, you know Wolfie. He needs space to work it out himself, it may actually hurt to go and force yourself into his presence," Conrart reasoned.

Yuuri was ready to explode. These two knew something he didn't. These two, the missing mazoku's older brothers, knew something and were keeping it secret from him. How infuriating. Their own _brother _was missing and they barely even batted an eyelash!

"Dorcas!" Yuuri bellowed. The loyal soldier ran to the open door from his post in the hall. The bald man stood up straight waiting for orders. "Ready Ao for a trip." Dorcas saluted and ran to see it done. Conrart and Gwendal sighed in unison. Their new Maoh was practically as rash as their younger brother. Wolfram definitely worked his influence on the Maoh's behavior. It was troublesome to try and keep track of which was causing more problems.

"Yuuri, I would advise you think through what you're doing before you leap into battle and bite off more than you can chew," Conrart began patiently. Yuuri whipped around to face his godfather once more. His eyes were poisonous, similar to his 'Maoh-mode', yet different. They were large and open like they usually were, but his pupils had grown darker and thinner. He seemed to dare Conrart to continue or try and intervene. He was going to get Wolfram back whether or not the brothers chose to help. The teen never felt so strongly for Wolfram ever before. What was going on? These feelings border lined obsessive. Yuuri recognized them as the feelings Wolfram harbored that annoyed the Maoh the most. The roles had switched. Wolfram was now pulling away from the relationship, while Yuuri fought to keep it together.

* * *

_Here, I also submit and dissolve the bonds…_

* * *

Wolfram started out again in the morning. Only ten miles to go and he'd arrive at the border check point. Yuuri hadn't followed him.

If he had followed, Yuuri must have taken the wrong direction from the castle gates. Just like the wimp he was. He probably went West instead of South. That or the Maoh was probably sitting in the castle dining hall with their daughter explaining to the girl that Wolfram had gone off on a whim and would return shortly. He was probably relieved that the blonde left in the night. It had saved him the trouble of breaking off the engagement, or the trouble of composing a goodbye. That wimp! The Wolfram completely let him off the hook!

The thought almost caused Wolfram's resolve to falter. But he promised himself when he left the castle grounds that he wouldn't return to the Maoh's side unless he was sought out and asked to return. Wolfram was tired of being rejected, and cheated on, and neglected, and ignored. Now, it would be possible for him to pursue new, better relationships. A new partner would treat him better than Yuuri in this old relationship, for sure! The blonde noble dug his heels into the sides of his angelic, white steed. He took off at a trot.

Wolfram von Bielefeld was going to turn his life around. He was going to forget his feelings for the Maoh. And yet, doubt fuzzed the edges of his mind. Was he just being rash as usual? He was so sure of this course of action last night, so sure that it would work out, but now he double guessed himself. What if his brother found the note and kept it secret? What if Yuuri wasn't coming after him because he didn't know where Wolfram had gone? The mazoku couldn't stand the thought of a confused Yuuri frantically trying to learn from secretive brothers and uphased diplomats where his friend disappeared.

Wolfram slowed his steed. It was cruel to leave Yuuri helplessly wondering where he had gone. Wolfram had taken the cowards way out and passively resigned. He should have walked up to Yuuri during the ball and delivered the news like a proud mazoku. Instead, he tucked his tail and ran, like a mouse. In a moment of indecision, Wolfram turned his stallion back toward the castle. How could he leave so indignantly?

Wolfram bit the inside of his lip until the blood ran along his tongue. He wasn't going to return to Covenant Castle. He turned his horse back to the South. He'd make his choice. He wouldn't return now. If Yuuri came after him he might change his mind, but what were the chances of the Maoh doing that? Near zero.

* * *

_That hold together my heart and that of His Majesty…_

* * *

The air was completely calm. No sounds disturbed it. The sky was a heavy orange, signaling the sun was about to rise. A wind swept through the long blades of grass in waves of soft movement. The border station could be seen through the still air over the flat fields. No travelers approached the border this early in the morning. Even so, a lone, white steed stood a ways away, heading towards the station. The soft breeze sifted through the hairs in its mane and tail. The creamy silk lifted wishing to follow the steady wisps of movement. The rider of the majestic steed slowly urged it forward to take on the sleepy station.

With near silent steps, the steed moved to deliver its master to the weak shack that served as home for the border patrol. There was no great wall at this entrance to Shin Makoku, just a flimsy wire fence with barbs at the top. Nothing so weak could hold back an enemy of the fearsome nation. The mere suggestion was insulting. But maybe it was the Maoh's open _heart _that kept the stone from building high. He was such a weak man, absolutely unfit for ruling such a powerful country. How surprising that Shin Makoku hadn't fallen to the siege of a greater nation ruled by a greater man! But now, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it?

The tired soldiers of the border patrol caught sight of the approaching man. Bright blonde hair that shone like the sun, eyes the perfect picture of the green sea, and a stallion straight from heaven. Saying the picture was beautiful would be a terrible understatement. An elegant blade was drawn from its sheath to reflect the rays of the sun, causing the mazoku of the patrol to wince and hide their eyes as the bright light hit their retinas.

The grass bent in submission to the large drops that fell onto its surface. Red splattered the walls. The perfectly white steed remained untouched. He had breached the border. Lives taken were merely collateral damage in the large picture. They were sacrifices to reach his final goal. True peace could only be achieved if everyone was ruled under the same laws and values. World domination was a vulgar term for it, but he would build a connection people from all nations could enjoy. Love open to everyone was the only way that everyone could see eye to eye. No treaties could compare with it. Free love to an extreme.

* * *

Word Count: 1,998


	3. TWBALL 3

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

3

_He had breached the border…_

* * *

"But it sounds like Wolfram, Your Majesty!" the hysterical advisor cried, pleading with the Maoh to wait.

The young ruler had agreed to wait until the morning to depart after his former fiancé. It was a compromise made with both of the blond mazoku's older brothers who insisted he was being rash. Now, Yuuri was already at the castle gates sitting upon Ao when Gunter von Kleist had run up brandishing a report above his head. Gwendal von Voltaire and Conrart Weller sat on their mounts behind their king. Even though neither wanted to accompany the Maoh on such an impulsive journey, they couldn't allow him to just leave, unguarded. And it was obvious that nothing either said would change his mind about going. Gunter von Kleist, on the other hand, was able to stop the Maoh right in his tracks.

The report in question came from the Eastern border patrol. A blonde man with sea green eyes, riding a pure white steed had attacked the peaceful border between Shin Makoku and a friendly human nation. The description of the attacker, indeed, sounded like Wolfram. But why, if it were Wolfram, why would he have attacked on the _Eastern_ border, a border to a _human_ village? Sure, Yuuri had converted the mazoku from his human-hating beliefs, but that influence did not reach far enough to convince the blonde to go _live_ with humans. And even had that scenario been true, what would be his reasoning for attacking a _mazoku_ checkpoint? Besides, if the missing mazoku attacked the checkpoint, the Maoh was positive the report would have mentioned a gigantic ball of fire, not just a blade. A blade just wasn't Wolfram's style for mass destruction. Something just didn't fit right with this report. However, it did sound like Wolfram and it could not go unattended.

"We'll go the East," Yuuri announced to his surprised advisors. They had no reason to be so surprised. He was the Maoh. It was his responsibility to the people of Shin Makoku to look into an attack, especially on the border between Shin Makoku and a human nation. As hard as Yuuri tried to improve relations with the humans, there were still some within the human world, and within Shin Makoku who resisted the Maoh's efforts. An attack from a human nation with supposedly friendly ties to Shin Makoku would only fuel the cynical mazoku and humans of the mazoku nation and her allies. And this attack was definitely one started by a human. Or a mazoku intent on forming the _appearance_ of a human.

"If not only to prove that the attacker _isn't_ Wolf," he sighed, turning his mount. Yuuri instructed Gunter to take command of the castle and explain the situation to the visiting diplomats. This wasn't an attack that only affected Shin Makoku. The human nation would be involved whether they intended to be or not.

The Maoh started forward at a slow walk. Even Ao picked up on Yuuri's melancholy. The two brothers shared a concerned look, and followed obediently. For the sake of His Majesty the Maoh, they prayed to the First King Shinou that Wolfram was not behind the attack. The hot-blooded mazoku was short tempered and rash, but he'd never _purposefully _cause trouble for Shin Makoku or her Maoh. Then again, he did leave secretly during the night. Silently and simultaneously, both men had the same thought. _Wolfram von Bielefeld, for the sake of His Majesty, please don't have anything to do with this event. _

* * *

_Dear Lord von Voltaire…_

* * *

A huge sneeze split the air like an arrow shot from the sky. The blonde noble wiped his nose of the sleeve of his uniform. One sneeze meant someone was talking about you in Yuuri's world, right? Did that mean that the Maoh was actually discussing Wolfram? No, that superstition was only a stupid Earth myth. Wolfram needed to stop remembering things like that if he was going to move on. But still, it was hard to ignore the little thoughts of the double black Maoh that snuck through his barriers. Like how Yuuri would always get that wimpy, stupid look when he was apologizing… And how the sun would reflect off the top of his hair when he'd ride Ao… And— No. Wolfram was _not _going to think things like that anymore, and he _meant _it this time. Nothing—and I mean _nothing_— that he thought of would make him change his mind and go back to that moron.

"I heard that the guy killed all of the guards at the post, and is heading for Covenant Castle," a man at the table over told his companion. Wolfram's ears perked. Covenant Castle? That was where he left Y—Greta. Yes, _Greta_ was his concern. She was his daughter, and what kind of father would ignore a threat to his daughter? An annoying little voice in his head whispered, _the kind of father who leaves behind their daughter, without saying goodbye, because it's the easiest out of his situation._ Guilt wasn't a stranger to Wolfram at this point. He'd taken the coward's way out and he deserved all the guilt that he felt.

"Excuse me," Wolfram said to the men. Both turned to him simultaneously. It was a little creepy, to tell the truth. But Wolfram was a soldier. Creepy wasn't even in his vocabulary. "I overheard something about Covenant Castle? I have a…sister…who's a maid there, so please, if you know something important, tell me." It softened the storyteller's heart to hear the plea from a 'worried brother'. How would he feel if he knew this brother was in fact a father and a lover?

"I overheard some of the town's guards talking about an attack to a border checkpoint in the East," the man started, turning to Wolfram fully now, and moving his head closer to the fire mazoku as if he were afraid of someone else hearing. "The man in question who attacked rode in from the humans' land that's _supposed _to be friendly with the nation. The guards said he _single-handedly_ beat the whole lot of border guards and killed them _all_! He's an enemy of the Maoh—no doubt—so it's obvious he'll head to Covenant Castle and kill everyone there too! I'd tell your sister she should leave now, while she still has the chance to do so."

Wolfram was shocked. Surprising the men at the table over, Wolfram jumped up and ran out of the restaurant, jumping onto the back of his steed with the grace of a jockey. The Eastern border. That was the border with Cavalcade! There was no way Cavalcade would betray Shin Makoku and attack! What was going _on_? He leaves the Maoh's side for less than a day, and a threat like _this_ comes up? Geez! What a wimpy Maoh. What would he do without Wolfram there to provide guidance for him?

Stupid question.

The answer was obviously: _This_ sort of thing happens when Wolfram isn't there.

The white steed came to a stop just outside of the town. But if a checkpoint were attacked, surely Yuuri would go to check it out. That's just the kind of Maoh he was. Wolfram's decision faltered. He couldn't return to Covenant Castle in case he was wrong about Yuuri's actions. At the same time, he couldn't check out the Eastern border in case Yuuri had gone to inspect it. He couldn't ignore the danger either, as much as he might try. What to do? Any action he chose, he would end up hurt in one way or another.

Decision made, Wolfram dug his heels into the sides of his ride. The horse jumped into motion galloping along.

* * *

_I have recognized that it is not in Shin Makoku's best interests…_

* * *

The border between Cavalcade and Shin Makoku was a peaceful border. Yuuri never questioned the intentions of his friend's nation. The _facts_ still had to be collected after all! And Beatrice was far too sorrowful to ever have given the order for such an act. She had come with her father to the border from the side of Cavalcade. It was always wonderful to see how the two of them were doing, regardless to the circumstances. She was growing into a fine young lady and a great ruler.

Heh. Wolfram would call him a lying, two-timer if he ever heard that thought.

Ah, yes…then, there was Wolfram. He sounded like the one who attacked the checkpoint, but why would Wolf ever do something like that? Yuuri could see Wolfram acting out to cause problems for the Maoh, but Wolf had never _purposefully_ hurt anyone before. And this attack not only hurt the Maoh, it hurt Shin Makoku as well. Wolfram would never commit treason against Shin Makoku. Would he?

"Yuuri, I can't apologize enough for the acts from my land," Beatrice apologized for the _n_th time. Yuuri smiled at the younger girl. She was a sweet person. Not really fit to handle anything like this. _This _was too dirty a business. It was covered in blood and _dirty_. No respectable girl should have to deal with something like that. She should have sent a representative to deal with the angry, injured guards. But no, she wouldn't do something like that. She felt too responsible for the attack; even though it was clear Cavalcade wasn't at fault. The attacker wasn't from Beatrice's nation. Yuuri was certain of that. And yet…and yet… here stood the young leader of the human country, apologizing profusely to the demons' Maoh. There was definitely something wrong with that. No matter the reasoning he put behind his argument, Yuuri couldn't get Beatrice to listen.

"It's alright, Beatrice," the Maoh forgave for the _n_th time. Beatrice wouldn't believe him; _couldn't_ believe him. There was something troubling the Maoh's mind. It wasn't related to the attack—she could read that much—but something else. Something personal troubled him. What could it be to trouble the _Maoh_? Then she noticed. The loud, blonde mazoku who always followed Yuuri around was missing. His fiancé, she remembered sadly. Had they gotten into a fight? They had fights before, but the blonde mazoku always accompanied Yuuri _any_way. The Maoh was probably worried. Had the blonde mazoku truly gone and left him? It seemed highly unbelievable from what she knew of the fire user. But there was the ball Shin Makoku held the night before. She hadn't been able to attend because of a Falltime cold. The hotheaded blond always seemed to get fired up when Yuuri spoke with other leaders and guests. Had the mazoku finally done something rash? Or _more_ rash than usual.

"Yuuri, what's troubling you?" The girl asked, concerned. The Maoh sighed. He gave her a look that clearly said '_More than I can say given the situation and the people here.' _It was a look that reflected Yuuri's exhausted expression. It was like he'd been awake all night. He turned back to the scene of the crime. It was a dismissal of her question. She wasn't offended.

The shack serving as the protection from nation to nation was splattered with blood. None of the guards had died, but rumors had already begun to rise that the attacker killed all of the mazoku and humans manning the station. The Cavalcadian guards said they didn't recognize the man. They had never seen him, but he was trained by a military. He attacked them as well as the mazoku, so he wasn't fighting for the sake of Cavalcade. He disappeared somewhere in Shin Makoku, lost from the radar.

_As was Wolfram_, Yuuri commented silently. The attacker looked like Wolfram and was missing. Wolfram _himself_ was missing. The similarities were a bit too much to cross the mazoku off the list of possible attackers. And yet…and yet…it just didn't _fit_! The attacker came from the Cavalcade side of the border, so Wolfram would have to cross then return and the guards said they hadn't seen anyone like the attacker all night. There also just wasn't enough _time _for Wolfram to execute such a complex plan. Besides, Wolfram was more of a _burn and leave no evidence _kind of guy. Yuuri knew his Wolf, even if his Wolf wasn't his Wolf anymore...

"There he is! That's the man who attacked us!" a wounded guard yelled at the top of his lungs, pointing to the side. Everyone turned to follow the finger. There, on the hill that rose up beside the border, he was indeed. The beautiful blonde man on an angelic white steed. The mazoku or man held his head high and proud. He wasn't going to bend that pride for anyone. Not even the Queen of Cavalcade, or the Maoh of Shin Makoku. Yuuri made a movement with his hand signaling his order to Conrart. Conrart nodded to a good number of the King's guards to follow his actions.

"You are under arrest for crimes against Shin Makoku and her neighbor Cavalcade," Yuuri called up to the figure on the hill. Conrart and the other guards moved slowly and cautiously up toward the attacker. There was no way to tell if he would attack them like he had the patrol station. The Maoh continued, "For these crimes you shall be put in the dungeons of Covenant Castle until you are judged for what you have done here at the border…Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld."

* * *

Word Count: 2,226


	4. TWBALL 4

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

4

"_Until you are judged for what you have done here at the border…Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld"…_

* * *

"It wasn't possible that Wolfram attacked those men on the border," Celli argued relentlessly.

"It's very unlikely it was Wolfram because he was loyal to Shin Makoku regardless of his rashness," Gwendal reasoned.

"It might be Wolfram if something happened to set him off, but it was highly doubtful," Conrart put into the discussion.

"Lord Von Bielefeld didn't look surprised when we arrested him, leading to the belief that he is in fact guilty of the crime," Murata suggested.

Gunter decided not to take a side.

Then they left. It was up to little Shibuya Yuuri, age twenty, to decide the fate of his overbearing fiancé. Should Wolf really be held for the crime, or should he be pardoned? If Wolf wasn't the one to commit the crime, it was wrong to lock him up, and besides, the real killer was still out in the countryside and may strike again at any time. If he _was_ the criminal though, he deserved to be locked up. As hot headed as Wolfram was, surely he wouldn't go as far as to attack a border guard. Especially after he resigned to join a border guard.

What was the other option? Someone who looked exactly like Wolfram and who rode a horse exactly like Wolf's steed had attacked a border guardhouse in an attempt to frame Wolfram for the crime and imprison him. That sounded much too like a manga that Shouri talked Yuuri into reading... Either way, it was necessary to find the criminal in order to assure the people that a psycho wasn't walking through their country.

It wasn't exactly justice, but if keeping Wolfram in the prison while they searched for the real culprit would keep the people at ease, then Wolf should stay in the dungeon. Then again, if the castle said they had the criminal in custody, questions would arise if they kept searching for a criminal they supposedly already had in prison. Yuuri stood. That's what he'd do. It was most logical, after all. Wolf wouldn't lie to him if Yuuri asked the blonde whether he committed the crime. He had faith in his former fiancé.

Opening the door from the office, he found Celli, Gwendal, Murata, Conrart, Gunter, and now Josak standing outside. Celli and Gunter looked anxious. Gwendal was stoic as usual. Conrart was concerned (and didn't smile). Murata hid behind the glare of his glasses lenses. Josak was very serious.

Yuuri cleared his throat. He wasn't sure what to say. None of them were really in the middle like he was, but they would step up and carry out anything he decreed. Even Celli would follow his decision if he chose to convict Wolfram to life in prison.

Or worse—death.

The word hadn't actually entered Yuuri's mind up to that point. So far no one had died, when they well could have done so, and Yuuri didn't want to be responsible for the first. However, the punishment for an individual who turned on his country and attacked any part of that country or its border was death. The word hung in the air of the hallway around their heads like an invisible guillotine ready to fall. It choked Yuuri and prevented him from talking, so he remained silent. Yuuri turned his eyes to the ground to avoid seeing the tears bubbling up in Celli's eyes. Determined and sure of his decision, Yuuri looked up at all of them.

"Josak, I want you to go and do what you do best. Find out _ANYTHING_ about the criminal. Go back to the border and talk to the guards. Go through the surrounding villages. Just find me more information." Josak saluted and disappeared down the hall to work his magic. Celli let out a cry in relief. Gunter let out a whimper that sounded like a suppressed sob of easement. Gwendal and Conrart seemed to relax a little. Murata focused his eyes on Yuuri, thoughtful.

It was interesting to Murata to see Shibuya delivering such a confident declaration. He always seemed half-convinced about all of his decisions. Here, though, Yuuri was reassured that his decision was the right one. Murata smiled. This was the confidence that Shin Makoku really needed in its leader. Shinou had made the correct decision. Wolfram was the correct person to compliment this Maoh. Shinou had somehow managed to pull the strings of fate to set them up perfectly. Water and fire weren't meant to be together, some said. On the contrary, Murata saw water and flame to be a perfect combination. The flame brought out the full potential of water, while the liquid successfully calmed fire and kept it in check. Just perhaps, the Maoh of old and his Daikenja had succeeded in finally creating the Shin Makoku they had dreamed of.

"Conrart, Gwendal, I want you to please cross analyze those details with what we know about Wolfram—his personality, his fighting style, his defense, everything. Gunter, Celli, I want you two to ensure that no one outside our group learns that Wolf may not be the attacker. There will be chaos if it gets out that we caught the wrong person. Murata, you're going to come with me to go talk to Wolf." Everyone rushed off to get to work on their assignments. Murata stayed, waiting for Yuuri's cue to start for the dungeons.

"Yuuri...that was a good decision," Murata reassured his friend. Shibuya looked up at the other double black mazoku of Shin Makoku. He sighed heavily, shaking the crinks out of his limbs. It looked like he was getting ready for a challenging game of baseball. Murata almost smiled at the image. Yuuri knew it was a good decision. He had grown much more mature over the years. Now, he understood the weight of his decisions and rulings. He knew that his guards and country would die if he decided it would be best for the nation. Yuuri also realized that Wolfram was willing to shut up and die to assure the people of Shin Makoku that the attacker had been caught, but he was wise enough to know that it would be a bad decision in the long run.

"I know, Murata. Let's go see Wolfram..." Yuuri told his friend. The two Earth born mazoku started off toward the dungeons of Covenant Castle.

* * *

_Crimes against Shin Makoku…_

* * *

The dungeons were as cold and dark and damp, as Yuuri expected them to be. There was moss growing on the walls and black water ran between the vertical carpets. A cell at the end was devoid of any light and of life. The moss stopped about a foot and a half away from the cell door. The edges of the moss carpets just outside that foot and a half radius were black from the remaining traces of flame. Without even asking, the two Earth-born men knew it was the cell they were looking for. They told the guards that they could take a momentary break, which they accepted after a few hesitant movements regarding the Maoh and strategists safety. With the guards dispensed, the two walked to the door. What Yuuri had been expecting was an outburst about being unlawfully imprisoned and a demand to know the reason why. Wolfram didn't even look up when they reached his cell though. The Maoh would have said his fiancé was asleep if he hadn't known better.

"Do you two want to tell me exactly what I've been arrested for?" The blonde beauty asked in a half-growl. He didn't open his eyes. He looked worn down and exhausted. Yuuri wondered for a fleeting moment if the guards had given him a hard time. After all, they knew what Wolfram had supposedly done to their fellow men in arms at the border. His mind wandered to the fire marks on the moss surrounding Wolfram's cell. Had they treated him so bad that he lashed out from inside the cell? Yuuri's rational mind reminded him that the cells were designed to cut off magical ability. If they weren't, then criminals with outstanding magic would be able to break free too easily. The moss had to have been burned when they were putting Wolf into the cell, not when he was already inside. Yuuri wondered what they could have done to make Wolf mad enough to burn the walls while being put inside. The Maoh felt sympathy for the soft, water-loving plant. It got burned like he had been on multiple occasions when Wolf decided that they should do magic training.

"You were identified by a victim to be the one who attacked the guards at the border, Lord von Bielefeld," Murata explained calmly. Wolfram's eyes sprung open wide. He bolted up from his seat, staring at them in disbelief. He began to pace back and forth muttering to himself. The two Earth-born mazoku shared a look. The noble's actions caught them a little off guard even though they had expected this kind of behavior from the start. Murata shrugged in response to Yuuri's unasked question.

Two sets of charcoal eyes followed Wolf as the other moved back and forth, working something out. The mutterings were too quiet to make any sense.

"Wolf...What's going on?" Yuuri finally asked.

The question pulled Wolfram out of his musings with a start. The blonde stopped moving and watched his fiancé with a fiery expression. He looked as if he had just noticed Yuuri standing there; Yuuri standing there and looking worried for _his_ sake. Suddenly Wolfram was at the metal-barred, floor-to-ceiling gate that separated him from his visitors. He grasped the bars and stared into Yuuri's eyes desperately. Yuuri took a step back in surprise at the sudden closeness of his friend's features.

"Yuuri, please tell me you don't think I did it," Wolfram pleaded. The Maoh was shocked. All the fierceness and fire his fiancé's voice usually held was gone. Pure, untainted desperation replaced it. Wolfram sounded scared; for the first time since they met, Wolf sounded honestly frightened. And with death for a crime he hadn't committed, the fear wasn't all that surprising.

"Lord von Bielefeld, maybe you should go ahead and tell us your story..." Murata suggested. Wolfram nodded in agreement, but he never moved his eyes from Yuuri. The nod was his consent. He would tell everything that had happened since his departure after the ball to his arrest.

* * *

"_That's the man who attacked us…"_

* * *

Wolfram began his story.

"The first night, I suspected that I wouldn't be missed. My disappearance would be logically explained as one of my emotional fits. No one would come after me. I was pretty certain. It was a mistake that we got engaged anyway. So why should it matter that I broke it off and left?

"In the morning, I set out again. It was a clear shot to the border. Yuuri was probably relieved that I'd left in the night. It'd saved him the trouble of breaking off the engagement, or of composing a goodbye. I'd completely let him off the hook! And I almost returned to the castle out of pure spite. But didn't.

"When I reached one of the last villages before the border, I was starving. I didn't have anything to eat all day. Not to mention my horse really needed water or she was going to refuse to go on. The tea had an intoxicating smell like clove oil for the mind. I strongly suggest it if you're ever in the area.

"The men at the table behind me talking about the attack. They said he was probably heading for Covenant Castle. I was guilty of deserting. When they mentioned the Eastern border, I was shocked. It's the Cavalcade border, after all, and I've met Beatrice so I doubt she'd order something like that. I decided to head over and see if I could get more concrete information by looking at the site and talking to anyone who came to clean up.

"And then, of course, you have me arrested, and no one really explained anything to me. Those barbarians you've got as the dungeon guards physically threw me in this cell without even asking if I had to go to the bathroom first. So you two are the first to clue me in to _anything_ that's really going on, and before you said I was identified by a victim, my information was that everyone at the patrol had been killed."

Murata had retreated behind the glare of his lenses once again. Wolfram had sat back down on the floor, cross legged at some point in the story. Now, Wolfram glared up at Yuuri. Yuuri sweated.

He told Wolfram everything they knew so far about the attack and the attacker. Wolf looked as horrified as Yuuri had felt when Gunter had first told it to him. As he suspected, Wolfram was innocent. Surely, it was impossible to fake such an automatic response. It was a coincidence that the criminal looked like Wolfram. Injustice would be done if they kept him locked up. Then again, there would be riots if they let him out. In a situation like this, Yuuri had to turn to the past experiences of the Daikenja.

"Okay, so we can't hold you for something you didn't do, but it will mean chaos if we let you out what with the real attacker not being caught yet…you know?" Yuuri ended awkwardly.

He didn't know how to approach this. Wolfram glared at the floor, his blood no doubt boiling in his ears. Something like this would fire Wolfram up for a declaration of war in the old days, when Yuuri had just come to the nation. Now, that side made its fresh appearance. He looked angry enough to head out and kill his look alike where he stood if he wasn't stuck behind the bars.

"Lord Von Bielefeld, as I'm sure you can understand, we can't let you out," Murata started. His eyes were still hidden behind the shine of the lenses.

It reminded Yuuri of when his friend had helped Shinou return and threaten the nation at the pains of Gwendal's eye, Conrart's arm, and Wolfram's still beating heart. Even so, the Maoh would trust his strategist with his life. Wolfram looked up at Murata. His eyes held a sort of silent grudge, showing that he understood, but he was reluctant to resign himself to the decision.

Yuuri stood by helplessly. He wasn't sure how to act. He agreed with Murata, but he didn't want to make Wolfram more upset. He was already the reason Wolfram left, so getting further on his bad side at the moment couldn't be a good idea.

Admittedly, if Yuuri kept Wolfram locked up in the dungeons, the fiery mazoku wouldn't be able to run away again. The king was shocked at himself for considering holding Wolfram in custody in order to solve a conflict that needed to be addressed more diplomatically. That was the newly possessive side talking, not him. It also seemed like an abuse of his power, to be honest.

"GUARDS!" Murata yelled suddenly. The prisoner and the king both jumped at the sound. The tone of Murata's voice sounded slightly panicked, and when the guards arrived, they clearly had assumed that Murata had been attacked. They stood at attention when they saw Wolfram sitting behind the bars and the two Earth born mazoku unharmed.

"Lord Von Bielefeld is a _noble_, even if he is a criminal under arrest, so I think it best to move him to the confines of his room, instead of jailing him down here," Murata decreed with a sweet smile.

The guards shared nervous glances before looking to Yuuri for direction. Yuuri nodded showing his agreement. The guards saluted and moved to open the cell. Wolfram stood. He looked to Yuuri for an emotion. Yuuri avoided his eyes.

* * *

Word Count: 2,672


	5. TWBALL 5

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

5

"_Guards physically threw me in this cell without even asking if I had to go to the bathroom first"…_

* * *

Conrart was the level headed type. He never lost his cool. After all, one needed to be in a calm state of mind in order to deal with any crisis. If one got too emotional, he would overreact to everything, as Wolfram often did. Conrart's younger brother was not one known for being calm and logical. He only reacted to what enthralled his emotions. Therefore, his actions were too reckless and out of control. He was dangerous to his enemies, but to his comrades as well. If one got too serious, he wouldn't react enough to anything, as Gwendal often did. While Conrart's older brother excelled at war strategy, and had the wisdom and experience of a commander, Gwendal trained himself to stay serious where sympathy and emotion was necessary. Conrart wouldn't have believed that a crisis could arise that would highlight both the errors in his brothers' means of action.

And yet, here Conrart stood, leaning on the door of the Lord Gwendal von Voltaire's office as a meeting collected. The usual guards had been sent away at the command of Celli, upholding her duty to keep the knowledge of Wolfram's confinement to the five closest to the twenty seventh Maoh. The situation had arisen because of Wolfram's overly emotional behavior. Behind the desk stood a tired Gwendal who struggled to keep his emotions within his control as he discussed with Celli the possible reasons he could imagine as to why his youngest brother would never attack mazoku guards. Gwendal was cracking at the seams. Conrart could almost see them forming on his brother's body as much as he could hear the cracks in his voice.

"The last of the visiting noblemen has just left the castle grounds. With the exception of Her Majesty Beatrice, no one knows of the attack as of yet, and therefore none know of Wolfram's imprisonment," Gunter announced appearing in the doorway. Conrart met his teacher's eyes and let him pass into the room. With the last member of the Maoh's mazoku advisors in the room, Conrart stepped inside and locked the door behind him. The heavy wood kept all sound inside. Gwendal had specifically asked for such a door when the old one was burned down by Wolfram during a tantrum years before Yuuri's arrival in Shin Makoku.

"Good," Gwendal affirmed looking up at his fair featured friend. Gunter took his place around the desk, which held an opened map of Shin Makoku as well as a collection of notes on Wolfram and his history of incidents. Conrart took his place beside his mother, touching her arm reassuringly. Celli still looked close to tears from the worry over her youngest son. "Now, tell me, Gunter, what's your opinion on the current situation?"

Gunter met Gwendal's eye assuredly, but hesitated a moment before reporting. "I believe unless we find the true culprit that it does not look well for Wolfram. Though I strongly believe as you do that he would not attack a mazoku post, the evidence is too stacked against him unless we find the true criminal who committed the crime. Even though we have prevented the news reaching the rulers of our allied nations for the time being, it is a story that is spreading like wildfire throughout Shin Makoku. I only hope we can identify and bring to justice the one responsible before a call for Wolfram's punishment rises from the masses."

Gwendal melted into his chair, grasping his forehead roughly. Another migraine, no doubt. This was a difficult situation to manage, and if managed badly it would result in the death of the youngest brother. It was stressful to say the least. Gwendal was at a loss. Everything he knew about Wolfram was proof that the young mazoku was not the attacker. And yet, there was still a doubt. Wolfram had been travelling alone with no proof that he had headed South other than the note that he had left behind on Gwendal's desk. There was no way to check where Wolfram was in the morning hours when the attack took place. The blond mazoku's close proximity to the attack site when he was next seen also did not add to his alibi. As it stood, there was no way to _prove _that Wolfram had not committed the attack, and therefore, no way to save him from a traitor's death unless Josak returned with tangible evidence to prove that the perpetrator was not Wolfram.

"Could we maybe compare the hoofprints of the attacker's horse with Wolfie's horse?" Celli suggested meekly. She had desired to leave the Maoh's job because she hated dealing with situations like this. Why couldn't everyone just let themselves love freely instead of clinging to such violent hate? But unfortunately, Celli was not _nearly_ naïve enough to let herself believe that it was possible. She could understand her eldest son's concern. No one would believe in Wolfie's innocence unless there was solid evidence that proved it. Wolfie was notorious for the firestorm anger he released when provoked, though the lack of fire in the attack wasn't enough evidence to defend him. Yuuri had done wonders for his overall temperament, but Wolfie's violent emotional reactions had only gotten worse. While Celli knew they all stemmed from love, she doubted that many others across Shin Makoku would be so forgiving.

"Unfortunately, the prints had already been obscured by the time we arrived," Conrart said sorrowfully. Celli's face fell even further. It would soon become too much for her to handle, Conrart could tell. "Hopefully, Josak returns with the evidence we need. Knowing him, he may even return with the geographic location of the attacker."

* * *

_Do what you do best…_

* * *

The man at the bar was cross-eyed and it wasn't just because of the alcohol sitting in front of him. He wasn't a particularly attractive man, definitely no competition for the younger pretty men who glared at him from across the room. He was in his late forties for starters. The wrinkles and gray hair were just starting to set in where tight skin and chestnut used to be. He wasn't as nimble as he was in his youth, and his eyes had lost their passionate shimmer. His clothes were that of a common laborer, not fancy to say the least. Nothing about his appearance spoke of wealth or security. He was even having trouble paying for his drink and had gotten into an argument with the bartender when out of nowhere this flame topped angel appeared to sweep him up into her life.

She was a strong lady as evident by the large and tones muscles that bumped out from her biceps and legs. The muscle was almost masculine. But her face was fair and beautiful and she captured the attention of every man in the pub. The young men all whispered amongst themselves and flirted with her from across the room and hated him. She hardly seemed to notice them. He was the only man in her eyes. He beamed with pride. Those young ones always made fun of him for being so old and unmarried, but now who was the one who was alone and in the outfield?

"So, Mr. Marrion? You said your name was? Have you heard of that atrocious attack on the Shin Makoku border? I hear that it was a mazoku intent on bringing down his own king!" the lady expressed. Marrion took a quick swig from his large beer mug, slamming it back down onto the bar's counter. The lady didn't as much as flinch at the violent act. She had seen much worse violence and was sure to see it again given enough time.

"Now, missy, that's herdly a subject fer such a pertty young woman ter concern herself with," Marrion slurred. The mediocre man looked at her, his eyes a little blurred from the alcohol. Blurred, she looked even more beautiful than before. Maybe it was the bright blue eyes, or maybe the tight braided bun of sunny orange hair, or maybe the corset-style vest that pushed up her sizable breasts, but whatever it was, the woman had him under her spell. She frowned just the slightest amount in a disappointed pout. Marrion could hardly resist an expression like that.

"Well, alright, I'll humer ya," he caved, taking another swig from his mug before starting his tale. "Truth be told, the attacker wersn't really one of them mazoku. I cerm ferm land up in the north of this her' country. There's a man up there named Dane. Grew up nermal, like any other one of these lerttle boys." He gestured to the young men across the room. "You'd nerver guess that he'd erver go wrong, but it was one of those mazoku that durn it. His fermily had a plot of land that backs rerght up to the berrder. You could look rerght down the field and see them traverling. It was a worse plot berfore Her Majersty Beatrice fermed an alliance with the Maoh. The fermily was always on edge and terrerfied that the mazoku would attack their home and derstroy their fields. Ernyway, one day a few yers back, while he was werking in the field, herlping his father in one closest to the berder, Dane ser the Maoh hermself visiting the border station with his guards and advisers. Well, Dane took a lerking to one of them guards: the Maoh's own fiancé, if yer'd belerve it. Pertty one too. Dane bercame obserssed. He had the same her and eyes that Dane had, and after they left, Dane took to wering bright blue clothes like that guard's unerform. The transformation is unexplainable. No one kners why he took such a liking to a mazoku guard he nerver even interacted werth. I weredn't be surprersed if Dane wers the one to attack that berder station."

The fiery haired woman sat pensively, digesting Marrion's story while the man gulped down more alcohol. The situation with this "Dane" character worked well to explain the attackers appearance. It would have to be cross examined. She needed more information, more people who also knew about this man. She pushed the rest of her drink to Marrion, wishing him a good evening, even though he'd hardly remember it by this point. The young men who had been leering across the room were gone, presumably home. Good riddance, in her opinion.

She stepped out of the door into the night. The city streets were deserted but for a few stragglers and people haloed out from pubs like the one she left. Preferably, she liked to work in the daytime. It kept trouble makers off her back as it was easier to blend into a crowd when there was one out on the street. She headed off. She booked a room at a cozy inn a little ways up the street. Logically, she would have targeted the pub in the basement of the building next door, but the crowd inside was too big and rowdy for her to safely conduct business. The few that were in the less popular pub almost always proved to be more open in their information after a few drinks. The only downside was walking back to the inn. There were more possibilities of running into trouble. And trouble she found.

"Hello, boys, come to play?"

* * *

_I'm sure you can understand, we can't let you out__…_

* * *

If Wolfram could be like Josak, did could that mean that Yuuri would like him better? If he dressed as a woman? Would it be good enough since he could never change his biological sex? These were the thoughts that ran through Wolfram's mind as he lay on his bed, adjusting to his new prison cell. Whether he was held down in the dungeons or up here in his bedroom, he was still a prisoner and there wasn't a thing to do about it.

Ordinarily, if a prisoner was held anywhere but the dungeons, special charms and runes were placed around the new cell in order to prevent the use of magic in any form. Elsewise, it would be too easy for the prisoner to break out using the strength of their element. Even so, Yuuri told the runes master that such an addition to the guards stationed outside the door would not be necessary. He trusted Wolfram to accept his humiliating fate.

_So much for my never returning to this castle,_ Wolfram thought bitterly. Yuuri's faith in the humans of this world had created this situation. As much as Wolfram waned to believe that humans and demons could potentially coexist as they did in Yuuri's world, he didn't go so far as to trust them. A few, like Beatrice and Flurin, were trustworthy and Wolfram didn't expect they'd turn on Shin Makoku any more than Yuuri suspected them, but the two women were not representative of the entire human race. This time around, the conflict was created by someone inside Beatrice's own kingdom. Not by the little girl's instruction, surely, but the populous needed to agree to abide by the agreements of those leading with power for those agreements to work. The attacker at the border was the perfect example of the populous not agreeing with the leader.

The more Wolfram thought about the divide between the rulers and the ruled the more his thoughts dwelled on how intentionally the attacker looked like Wolfram. He couldn't think of any reason why he would be specifically chosen. It was possible that the human had some plot of revenge against Wolfram for a deed done to his father or grandfather during a battle, but Wolfram couldn't think of what that deed could be. While the blond had seen the battlefield and carried his weight in battles during his time as a soldier, he was never part of a war or conflict involving Cavalcade. All of those had taken place before his lifetime.

The only other explanation the von Bielefeld could imagine was that the use of his face was meant to derail Yuuri from thinking through his decisions. It was meant to make Yuuri act rashly and stupidly. That would weaken the leadership of the country, but Yuuri also had Gwendal, Gunter, and Conrart to oversee his actions. If he acted rashly, they would check him on it. They would insist that he think longer about his decisions and lay out all the possibilities. Not to mention Murata would be by Yuuri's side to remind him of the best course of action. Murata knew how to take time to work out a problem. He'd waited since the rule of the first king to arrive at the perfect candidate to be Maoh.

Besides, the attacker had misjudged the Maoh's nature. The double black mazoku would wait the situation out without breaking a sweat. The attacker hoped to invoke an emotional response by mimicking the Maoh's fiancé, but that decision would only inspire Yuuri's regular response to injustice. Such a means wouldn't weaken the Maoh or catch him off guard.

After all, Yuuri didn't get worked up over Wolfram.

* * *

Word Count: 2, 545


	6. TWBALL 6

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

6

_That was the newly possessive side talking, not him…_

* * *

"This man made things personal, so of _course_ I'm upset, Murata! Who wouldn't be?"

Yuuri set off on a march along the room. He turned and marched back. The pacing wore Murata out more than anything. Yuuri never paced. And yet, here he was pacing so rigorously that he'd likely wear down a rift in the stone flooring. The physical expression of his anxiety was tiring. Murata sighed. One day, Yuuri freaked out because Wolfram was too clingy; the next day, he freaked out because Wolfram was being too distant and he couldn't figure the blond out. Murata wondered if Yuuri recognized that he was acting like Wolfram usually did. Even the pacing was a typical anxious behavior of Wolfram's.

"Shibuya, you're being like your fiancé," Murata informed his friend calmly. Murata sat on the Maoh's bed with a leg hugged to his chest. He watched his friend over his glasses so that Yuuri was a blurry figure. The situation troubled Murata. He couldn't think of a good reason the criminal would have picked the pretty but dangerous blond prince to mimic in his attack. If it was meant to make Yuuri unstable, the plan succeeded, but to what purpose? If it was meant to defame Wolfram, what rationale had the criminal to do such? The attacker's actions were too nonsensical. Murata couldn't identify a motive. It was like something Shinou would plan out, but Murata knew for a fact that Shino was not involved. The first king would also never make a plan for anything that would harm any mazoku subject, and the border breech had gone too far. Word was already spreading that the attacker from Cavalcade had killed the mazoku border patrol. Soon Shin Makoku's subjects would grow angry and demand that action be taken. With Yuuri as unstable as he currently was, Murata didn't want to test if Yuuri could keep his peaceful ideals in the face of an angry populous. The daikenja had lived through enough wars to know that this situation laid the seeds to start a massive one.

"I'm being _Wolf-like_?" Yuuri asked incredulously, stopping midstride and turning to face his long term friend. Yuuri put a hand to his forehead and flopped on the bed beside his strategist. The Maoh rolled onto his back to stare unseeingly into the drapery that layered over the frame. "I don't even know what that means anymore. I mean, I thought I did… but then he just…left. And then this whole situation happened. I know Wolf would never do anything like this, but I never thought he would leave me either."

"You know…" Murata sighed heavily. The king gave the man all his attention. Murata adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. Black eyes met equally black ones. "Let me talk to Lord von Bielefeld and see what I can find out." Yuuri sat up looking at his friend intently. Murata could nearly see the gears turning in the Maoh's mind as he tried to figure out what Murata was planning. "We heard his story about what _happened_, but I wonder about what exactly was going through his _head_ that inspired him to go off and run away. It might help you to relax to know."

Slowly Yuuri nodded. The daikenja stood. His friend turned back to the roof of the bed.

"Tell him I'm sorry for whatever I did."

* * *

_Compare the hoofprints of the attacker's horse with Wolfie's horse…_

* * *

He rode slowly through the rolling hills. He knew that each step his horse made, the more evidence he would leave behind. However, he wanted to be found. If he didn't, he would have entered the demon nation quietly. But no, he needed to draw the Maoh's attention.

Passing through villages, he considered attacking the inhabitants, but seeing refugee boys in the first village he came upon whose homes were still being reconstructed after the attacks years earlier, he couldn't bring himself to do it. His goal was not to terrorize or to harm. The attack when he entered Shin Makoku was necessary to unnerve the Maoh and his advisors. It was intended to confuse and bring about a level of panic. Attacking a village would be good for nothing but terrorizing. He'd be caught too soon.

His clothing imitated that of the Maoh's private guard. His likeness to the high ranking mazoku bought him respect and no one had yet questioned him as to his intent or rationale for being so far out from the capital. He assumed that most assumed he was riding back to the capital after checking out the situation on the border.

News of his violence already reached such as the refugee village. The women already gossiped about it when they met on the street. He couldn't have planned for better. If the word spread far enough, terrified commoners would demand action from their king. The stress would unsettle the Maoh, leaving him and his guards open and unprotected. A twisted smile worked its way onto his features.

Dane pressed his heels into his horse's sides, bringing her to a gallop. The capital city was in sight.

The Maoh wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

"_Hello, boys, come to play?"_

* * *

They were suspicious. The ginger haired woman had asked too many specific questions. It was an amateur's blunder. She'd been doing this job for so many years, and yet, she still wasn't above the beginner's stumbles. Well, she supposed she deserved whatever trouble came next. She could hold her own even if she was dressed in a skirt, so she faced the men with a pleasant smile. They wouldn't know what hit them once they attacked her.

"Good ervning, ma'me. I'm Tyler. This ers Tayler. We overheerd ya asking old Marrion abert Dane," the brunette man standing in the front of his friend informed her calmly. He didn't sound threatening, but then again, none of them ever did. However, she had no doubt that this man was the 'leader' of the two. They were the men who had been sitting across the pub, the ones who were jealous of Marrion for getting all her attention to himself. The brunette continued, "Tayler an' I wernt to school with that one. Thert we'd terll ya some backgrernd abert him."

They weren't what she'd been expecting. They wanted to give her information? Information that she didn't need to trick or pry or deceive them to get? That was a new kind of information that she wasn't used to dealing with. Regardless, she'd accept it.

"Alright," she flirted, looking sideways at the men through her long eyelashes. She shifted her weight slightly to suggest that they should each take one of her arms as they walked. "You can walk me home." The men jumped to position instantly.

"Dane wernt to school with ers 'til we were adults," the previously silent redhead began. Tayler. He was a not unattractive young man with a strong jaw and a muscular torso, but his eyes looked a little like those of a cow.

"The adults like Marrion didn't see it, bert Dane wers always a trerbled kid," Tyler added. He was more of a pretty boy with mousy brown hair that looked cleaner than his friend's. He had less muscle than Tayler, but was obviously had the sharper mind. He was definitely the leader, just as Tayler was definitely the physical strength of the pair.

"Obsersed with those mazoku over the berder, nert healthy," Tayler continued. She gave him an adorably confused look. Charm was not something that she lacked. He'd keep talking without her asking the questions. "Always sneaking alerng that edge of his families land, lerking acrerss to see what they were dering. Marrion thernks it started with the Maoh, but Dane'd been dering it for _agers_ before their king visited."

"Persernally, I'm not serprised he sterted wearing the mazoku's cerlers. Always lerking over the berder like that, yer'd thernk he wers werting fer that guard to come. Like he werse sher one of therm would lerk like him and terk him away," Tyler decreed. She turned back to the pretty one.

"You talk as if he is a mazoku himself," she asserted curiously.

"Like I serd, I werdn't be serprised if he wers. He's derfinertely pertty enough to be," Tyler finished.

"The lerking he terk to that guard though, thert's nert nermal," Tayler finished as the threesome stopped in front of the inn where she was staying. He seemed to be looking for the words for what he wanted to describe, but he didn't know them. "It wers like…it wers like the plern to atterck the berder patrol sterted when he ser that mazoku. Like he already kner that he werd attack the berder dressed like thert mazoku. Nert to get him in trerble but to terk him away. Ders thert merk sense?" He looked to Tyler for help.

"It wers like he'd ferllen fer the mazoku an' sterted plernning a way to wern him ferm the Maoh," Tyler answered. "We'd therk therts why he'd atterk our own berder an' enter Shin Makoku. It's nert an atterk bert a rescue missern."

She looked at the sky thoughtfully a moment, digesting the information they gave her. This guy Dane didn't sound like the most stable and sane person. At the same time, there were definitely crazier people in the world. And yet, Dane was the one who rode and attacked his own country's border patrol alongside mazoku. Not an attack, but a rescue? How did that work?

Then she understood. The man didn't imitate the blond mazoku guard of the Maoh in order to frame him and get him in trouble. Dane imitated the blond because he hated the Maoh and guessed how to upset him. He was obsessed and that made him of a specific breed.

"I'm sorry, boys, but I seem to have deceived you," she informed the men calmly. She then spun on them, knocking them out with a single swing of her muscular arm. She looked down at their bodies. They were nice kids. They shared information solely because they knew it was searched for. However, a report needed to be sent.

Changed for the night's ride back to Covenant Castle, Josak released the pigeon into the darkness. The attacker was of the breed of Adalbert—he would go to war in the name of love; of Conrart—he would travel dimensions to protect the heart and mind of his love; of Wolfram—he would go to the end of the world and all the dimensions to claim his love. The ginger spy watched the pigeon until the darkness swallowed it up. Josak knew that he would be needed on hand at the castle.

* * *

_The attacker's target isn't His Majesty. Wolfram is in danger._

_-J_

* * *

Word Count:1,844


	7. TWBALL 7

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

7.

"_I'm being Wolf-like"…_

* * *

Yuuri nodded to the soldiers as he walked past. They saluted like he was an experienced general who held their respect. He supposed that was what the Maoh was in a time of war, but Yuuri had so far avoided violent conflicts, and he hoped to keep things that way. The thought of violent conflicts brought him back to what he was about to attempt. Wolfram's door stood before him, the last barrier between him and whatever fury his fiancé had to unleash upon him.

Murada had spoken to Wolfram the day before, but he said he needed to think over what the noble had shared before he could relate it to Yuuri. The Maoh was sure that it was a bad sign if Murada needed time to digest the information given to him before sharing it with the Maoh.

Wolfram was always one to be rash in his actions. Yuuri just never thought Wolfram would go so far as to actually leave him. The blond mazoku always made such a point out of the fact Yuuri was "his" that Yuuri never thought he'd be in a situation where Wolfram left without a second thought. He supposed that it was largely his own fault. _Love and cherish the ones you love, Yuu-chan, or else they'll find a better deal with another person,_ his mom always said.

Sure, Yuuri knew that he could have done more. He could have paid Wolfram more attention. He could have been more affectionate. He could have not balked so much when Wolfram made advances. He could have done a lot of things, but he didn't, and he supposed this was the price he paid for it.

Sucking in a deep breath he knocked and pushed open the door. Yuuri smiled to himself, stepping in and silently closing the door behind him. Wolfram was asleep. Guess that's what happens when you lock a lazy soldier in a room and told him he doesn't need to wake up for anything. Wolfram typically slept late anyway.

Yuuri stood at the foot of the bed and watched Wolfram sleep. He felt undeniably creepy. Why didn't he just wake Wolfram up when he came in? Why wasn't he waking him up now?

Partially because he knew that Wolfram would probably be angry once Yuuri woke him up. He'd demand to know what was going on, how long they were going to keep him locked up. However, Yuuri knew how to deal with the anger. He was more frightened that Wolfram would be stoic; show no outrage; demand nothing; be like he was when Murada and Yuuri left the dungeon. That variation of Wolfram scared Yuuri more than anything. That side of Wolfram was odd and impossible to read. Yuuri didn't like the feeling that he couldn't predict Wolfram's reactions.

So, Yuuri stood at the foot of his fiancé's bed and watched him sleep. Wolfram was so calm when he was sleeping. His breathing was slow; his hair was all mushed about the pillow; his arms hugged the pillow into his face; his legs sprawled; he was warm. Yuuri felt himself blushing. He couldn't believe his own thoughts. Wolfram was male. Yuuri had grown up with the values that males aren't interested in males. It was creepy, strange, foreign.

But then again, that was back on Earth. Here, it wasn't out of the ordinary. Here, it wasn't uncommon for males to marry males, or females to marry females. It wasn't the same as his home world. This was his country now. This was his world. Wolfram represented all of Shin Makoku that Yuuri had not understood when he first arrived. Wolfram had always lived here and didn't understand how Yuuri could be surprised. Yuuri couldn't understand how Wolfram could be so accepting of such estranged methods of living. Now, Yuuri knew so much more about Shin Makoku and was so much more accustomed to the traditions and way of life in his country. He was accustomed and knew so much more about Wolfram and his feelings…

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair. He knew it was inevitable. His mom had always said _closeness breeds companionship_. For a while now he'd been aware of it growing. He always ran from it because it was a foreign feeling, but the more he thought about it in the last few months the more he came to realize just how unforeign it was. This was his home, and it wasn't foreign in Shin Makoku. Yes, he'd been aware of it for a while, though he wasn't quite ready to admit it. He'd always known Wolfram was pretty, but gradually, he began to really _see_ his friend.

He'd started to see the way Wolfram's hair lifted in the breeze; the way his eyes burned anyone who came too close to Yuuri; the way he overreacted to any perceived threat to his standing as the Maoh's courtier; the way Wolfram lit up when Yuuri brought him back a present from Earth; the way Wolfram would glare at him even while at attention when Yuuri told him to act civil. More than anything, Yuuri had started to notice how mature Wolfram had gotten since the king first arrived. Even though the outbursts were the same, he held himself more dignified when asked, and often didn't burst until the two of them were alone. Yuuri smiled. He really had taken more notice to the prince. He wasn't just a pretty face. He was a soldier too.

Yuuri bent down, placing a hand lightly on Wolfram's shoulder blade. The soldier tensed slightly, though he didn't wake up. Blue maryoku swirled from Yuuri's hand entering the muscle beneath it. Wolfram breathed a pale sleepy sigh. Yuuri smiled. He leaned into his fiancé's ear and whispered.

"We know of your innocence, Lord von Bielefeld, and we will gladly see to it that your name is cleared of this injustice."

There was a noise from behind. Yuuri had stood straight and released Wolfram by the time the door opened. Yuuri turned to face it, blinking as his pupils filled out to their regular size once more. The divide between Maoh side of his personality and he had started to blur a few months back, but Yuuri had kept it secret. He didn't need his advisors fussing over a "danger to his mental stability" especially since he knew that he was meant to combine both halves, though he couldn't say how he knew.

Conrart stood in the doorway, looking urgent.

"Josak sent a bird."

* * *

_The attacker's target isn't His Majesty..._

* * *

Dane tied a bow at the top of his cotton work shirt. He looked down at himself, deciding he was suitably dressed so as not to draw attention to himself. He was about two villages away from the capital city of Shin Makoku, standing on a hill overlooking the town. He galloped to a point outside the city wall that was easily accessible from Covenant Castle, but hidden out of sight from the view off the wall. He'd changed, leaving his blue uniform tucked into his saddlebags.

This next step of his mission necessitated that he blend in with the commoners of the town below. He would spread panic here; create an imaginary threat that had already started to form through rumors across the nation. First he needed to decide on a back story. Luckily, he had been thinking on his way to this point from the border.

A small flutter in the clouds caught his attention. Looking up, he caught sight of a pigeon. Pigeons had populated every nation at every altitude. No matter where you were, you could find a pigeon. They were as common as the rain. However, what held his attention on this particular pigeon was the red tassel attached to its left leg. The tassel didn't have any designs; nor did it sport any patterns; and even as Dane told himself that he was simply being paranoid, he remembered Shin Makoku's uncatchable ginger spy whom he had heard about from some sailors at the docks up North. Although this bird seemed to be an ordinary pigeon at first glance, the red tassel undoubtedly carried a message headed for the city. It could be a message from anyone at all, but it flew in from the East. Fueled by paranoia or not, Dane pulled a gadget hanging from his belt.

He had intended to use the net-thrower in order to catch food, but it made an ideal weapon with which to capture a messenger bird without harming it. Dane took aim and the net shot out of the barrel, raising up before the foul and wrapping its wings tight to its body. Down it fell. Dane ran forward to find it in the grass. He pulled the tassel off its leg and read. The beauty of the net device was that if the message revealed to be of no importance, Dane could reattach it and send the pigeon onwards. He unrolled the note.

* * *

_The attacker's target isn't His Majesty. Wolfram is in danger._

_-J_

* * *

Dane smiled. He had to admire Shin Makoku's ginger spy. Even given just the short time since the attack, he had already discovered Dane's purpose, or at least part of it. Of course, the Maoh and his advisors would devise a battle plan to keep Wolfram safe and protected if they received such a message. With concrete news, the Maoh and his advisors would not be so uprooted. They would be ready for Dane to arrive. They wouldn't assume a force was coming in order to upset the Maoh's power and to take down the mazoku nation. They wouldn't question their alliances with human nations. Not that Dane was against such alliances. He didn't even dislike the mazoku or the humans who sided with them. No, Dane didn't hate Shin Makoku, but her Maoh was his enemy.

Years before when the Maoh had visited the border with Cavalcade, he and his party rode along the road parallel to the border, the road that ran right along his property on the mazoku side of the border. Dane was only sixteen and inexperienced at the time. Even so, he knew he was in love as soon as he saw the mazoku. Not the Maoh, for whom plenty of the border town's inhabitants had fallen. No, the only one in Dane's eyes was the fair Lord at the Maoh's side. Dane fell in love with the ways of Wolfram von Bielefeld—the way his curling blond hair blew in the wind; the way his sharp sapphire eyes burned anyone who approached the Maoh; the way he overreacted to Queen Beatrice's kiss on the Maoh's cheek; the way the mazoku noble stood with his back straight, pulling himself in check the second the Maoh told him to calm down. At the age of sixteen, Dane knew that Lord Wolfram, courtier of the Maoh, was the only being alive with whom Dane was fated to be.

He searched and searched for any and all information regarding his mazoku guard. In his quest for information, Dane learned of the engagement his guard was tethered by. Lord Wolfram was engaged to marry the Maoh who didn't even openly acknowledge their relationship; the Maoh who dismissed the guard when they entered the country of Cavalcade; the Maoh who chastised the guard for any display of emotion; the Maoh who _obviously_ didn't treat his fiancé as the blond mazoku deserved to be treated. However, Dane could treat him better, of that he was sure. Dane loved the mazoku guard more than the Maoh ever could. If only Dane could steal Lord Wolfram away from his insensible fiancé. Then, Dane could show Lord Wolfram just how well he could be prized by another. King Yuuri, twenty seventh Maoh of Shin Makoku, had compassion and love for everyone else in this world, but he refused to extend that compassion to his royal companion. Such a man or mazoku shouldn't be allowed to behave as such.

Dane had planned his attack for _years_. Others in his farming village in Cavalcade said that he had gone mad with his obsession, but Dane knew better than them. He knew that all his planning would pay off. Through research, he learned Lord Wolfram was too proud to ever consider breaking off the engagement. Dane would have to take him away through a method more extreme than the usual courtship of noble families.

His research told him of the Maoh's periodic disappearances that seemed on average to spread over months. His trusted advisor and friend Murada, the reincarnate of the great Daikenja who worked alongside Shin Makoku's great first king, Shinou, would disappear during the same times. None of his sources knew to where the two vanished, but periodically, they would leave the running of the nation to the oversight of Lord Gwendal von Voltaire.

Lord von Voltaire was Shin Makoku's army director, so he had a lot of experience dealing with aggressive movements against the mazoku nation. He worked with Lord Gunter von Kleist, and the two were even members of Shin Makoku's high council. Lord von Voltaire was Wolfram's oldest brother, Dane had also learned. He would have to find a way past the war general if he were to be successful in obtaining Lord Wolfram. Sources said that the general was powerless in the face of small, cute things.

The middle brother was Conrart Weller, a half-human who chose to live and fight in Shin Makoku. Conrart was the Maoh's godfather and also one of his guards. Dane had seen this guard during the Maoh's visit to the Cavalcade border. He was a swordsman with quick wits, and he rarely left the side of his Maoh. He was the lion of Lütenberg. Some sources had hinted at a relationship beyond friendship between Sir Weller and the ginger spy, whose name was unknown by all Dane's sources.

Dane had researched the backgrounds of all the Maoh's advisors and guards from their previous actions to how they fought to what merits they earned to hobbies they performed in their spare time. He built his plan accordingly. There was no way that it could unravel. It was fool proof!

Dane found a flattened rock and knelt beside it. Rummaging in the back sack that he kept with him in his travel on foot, Dane produced paper and a pen. He placed it perfectly over the message from the ginger spy, tracing the letters he needed. Once he was done, the message looked perfect. He even allowed for some errors to mimic variation in the spy's handwriting. Dane retrieved the pigeon that still lay in the net, having given up thrashing to escape. He rolled his message and fit it into the compartment from where the original had been taken. The tassel was reattached and the bird set free. It sped away, racing for Covenant Castle, desperate to get away from where Dane stood.

His lips cracked, revealing his not-white teeth underneath.

* * *

_The attacker is one of a secret army. More are coming._

_-J_

* * *

Word Count: 2,534


	8. TWBALL 8

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

8.

_More are coming…_

* * *

On general principle, Murada didn't call in anyone for advice. He would just sit back and search his expansive memories to find some sort of insight to any situation. History was routinely dull. Everything had a prerequisite and could be solved similarly. With history at his fingertips, Murada never found anything he couldn't think through given time. However, in this situation, he did not have the time to contemplate.

Wolfram was something new. The mazoku never reacted exactly as Murada expected. Just when Murada thought he had figured out when the noble's temper, Wolfram started controlling his outbursts. Just when Murada thought he had figured out the mazoku's loyalty, Wolfram left with plans to stay away. Just when Murada thought he had figured out the prince's pride, Wolfram revealed insecurities never evident previously.

Then there was the situation with the border attack. Cavalcade was a peaceful nation. Her Queen, Beatrice, had a tie to Yuuri that went beyond a political alliance. Murada doubted that the attack came at her command. Despite Yuuri's efforts there were still humans and mazoku who opposed the alliances between human nations and Shin Makoku. However, the Eastern border was a highly insignificant point to attack if the goal was to make a stand against Shin Makoku and her supporters. The eastern border wasn't a stronghold for anything that Shin Makoku relied upon for survival. It wasn't a port, or a city, or the nation's only farm land. No, if any force attacked the eastern border it would be because of convenience. And that fact in and of itself supported the notion that the force to attack was not that of a military movement but of a lone interest or perhaps a small group. Such a threat was something new, and Murata was not so proud of his intelligence and experience that he didn't recognize when he needed help.

Ulrike bowed upon coming into the presence of the reincarnation of the great Sage who served the first king centuries prior. Murada smiled, duplicating the respectful gesture. He wished that the shrine maiden of Shinou's temple would stop treating him like an honorary figure. To be honest, he was on more or less the same standing as her. When he came to Shin Makoku, he spent most of his time in the temple with his king, busying himself with any work he was asked to assist. Even though he was the reincarnation of the Sage, he was just a free loader now that Shinou and his mission was complete. Like Ulrike, he predominantly took on the role: Babysitter of the Great and Mischievous King Shinou.

"Murada! Long time no see!" the magnificent king—sung about in the history books—greets his faithful strategist.

Shinou's booming voice could fill a great hall without any effort. His presence was enough to bend the proudest mazoku into submission. His glorious halo of blond hair stole the hearts of countless men and women, mazoku and human alike. The hair had survived the trials of time, manifesting in the proud prince Wolfram who looked the most like the first king of all Shinou's descendants. Shinou's robes were made of the most pristine midnight black cloth.

And now, all of the great king's splendor and beauty was shrunken down to the relative size of a number two pencil.

"Hello, Lady Ulrike, Shinou, thank you for traveling out," Murada welcomed, untangling the five inch tall Shinou from Ulrike's unfathomably thick gray-white hair. The king squirmed in Murada's hands, yelling in his mousey voice about the manhandling of royalty. Ulrike giggled. The mighty king—who held every ounce of his original magnificence under the supervision of the shrine maidens—shrunk to the size of a child's doll when he ventured outside the confines of the temple.

"I asked you two here for your opinions on the handling of the current situation," Murada continued as if Shinou had not spoken. Ulrike bowed her head respectably and watched the young man intently, ready to hear the details. Shinou eyed his strategist. While his Sage was always particularly gifted at hiding his own feelings and intentions, Murada was indisputably concerned. Shinou could see in the young reincarnation's coal black eyes the doubts and sympathies that buzzed in his mind.

"Well then, shall we get down to business?" Shinou asked calmly, now perched on his strategist's shoulder. He took hold of a few strands of Murada's hair as the threesome turned and made their way for the Sage's personal room at the castle.

* * *

_Shin Makoku's ginger spy…_

* * *

Josak had ridden without stopping from the moment he released his messenger bird. His horse and he were in dire need of a break, and stopped at the side of a stream a little ways out from the town of Hizzlguard, just about fifty miles to the capital city.

Hizzlguard was a quiet town, though many traveled through to reach the capital city of Shin Makoku. It was a peaceful village that rarely ever saw any more trouble than the occasional drunken brawl despite its close proximity to the capital. Most of the income to be had in Hizzlguard was generated by the travelers who came through. Inns, stock houses, restaurants, and first class stables made up the majority of the town's businesses, though some workers resided on the edges that faced farmland.

Josak had a few friends in the town. Some were soldiers who never quite made it into the capital's force. Some were men some were women. He knew a few nobles and a few innkeepers who let him stay the night free of charge if need be. Josak had minimally come in contact with any person who was truly bad at heart in Hizzlguard.

It was a happy township and its people were as loyal to the Maoh as any within the capital. It was beautiful with small cottages of stone; carts in the street; cute signs in doorways that promised cozy rooms. It was quiet and calm. Its mazoku smiled and greeted each other in the street during the day, and drank and wrestled come night. Now, however, instead of seeing the dusty streets of Hizzlguard from the shallow hillside by the stream, Josak only saw smoke.

Flames licked up the sides of buildings, consuming the wood and scarring the stone; tearing down the town walls as quickly as the mazoku ran in the streets; strengthening even where water was applied by a few determined few determined to contain it; leaping at the heels of mothers who hurried their children out of the town gates; and destroying the houses the kind citizens called home.

The water resistance caught Josak's attention as he left his steed at the creek and ran for the burning town. No natural fire resisted fire as absolutely as this fire did. It demolished everything in its path, however; the flame seemed contained within the walls of the town. Although the town walls glowed with the blaze, nothing outside of them caught fire.

He stored the information in a folder in his mind to bring up with the Maoh once either he reached the capital or Yuuri came to Hizzlguard.

Josak instructed a group of townsfolk standing outside the gate. They weren't nearly far enough away from the town. The flames could still reach them if it broke the walls. They needed to be at _least_ a hundred feet away from the town to stay safe. But they were far enough to _feel_ safe, and no one was taking charge. It was madness, with people running about in every direction with no order.

"Hey! You! Get these people out and up the hill. There's a horse at the creek. Get them at least that far!" Josak barked at a group of inexperienced soldiers who snapped to instantly. The order was enough to push back their panic and get them moving. They hurried to gather mothers, fathers and children—who stood in shock—and force them up to the creek.

"What can we do to help?" a young man asked from Josak's right. The spy turned on the small group of a brave few people who identified him as the voice of authority. The group consisted of an adult and four young men—including the one who had spoken.

"As much as I dislike the idea, we need to get inside. The soldiers can handle directing everyone outside, but there may be people still trapped inside, and we can't just leave them. Besides, the fire seems contained to the inside of the walls, which could mean it was set using a spellcaster, and anyone we leave inside will surely die." Josak announced to the team.

"I agree, but the blaze is too strong," the adult said reasonably. Josak sighed. He knew the man was right, and he agreed, the mission he suggested was a suicide run. The six young mazoku believed in their invincibility, but then again, the young always did. Josak looked back at the town. The danger was too much, especially because there weren't even any verified townsfolk trapped inside the walls.

Then there was a scream. It came from a mother being ushered up to the creek by the town's soldiers. She was pointing hysterically into the town, yelling about her child—a child whose whereabouts she had not known when the fire began.

The child was a girl, young like the boys. She stood silently in the window on the second floor of an inn. In her arms she held a crying baby. The bottom floor of the inn was engulfed in flame. The roof and the area visible through the window were also flickering with the beginnings of fire. The girl herself was calm and rocked the infant in her arms despite the situation.

"Emma!" one of the young men gathered around Josak yelled in shock.

"She went back for the baby, oh, Shinou, why would she do that?" said the second young man sorrowfully.

"King Yuuri wouldn't hesitate to rush in there; and if the Maoh would risk his safety to save Emma, we sure as Hell shouldn't run away with our tails between our legs!" the original speaker declared.

Josak and the other adult shared a glance. Neither could turn their back now that there was an identifiable victim still inside the walls.

And so the group decided. They would make a run into the town and make a quick rescue.

The fire roared in Josak's ears. The sound was deafening. The team couldn't hear each other speak, and had to communicate in gestures. Josak thought he must have gone insane. Years ago, he would never have tried something so risky as running straight into a blazing fire for one lone girl. Yet, he barely thought about the personal danger. The kid was right, if Yuuri were present, he'd rush in without thinking. The girl was noble, and it had nothing to do with her blood. Josak couldn't face Yuuri ever again if she was left to burn with the infant she had tried to save.

The fire at the foot of the girl's large building shaped coffin roared up on their approach. It was like it had been waiting for them to arrive. The two adults held back while the three younger men dashed forward, blind to the danger and fueled by their confidence. Feeling the seeds of shame burrowing within, the men plunged forward, forcing themselves to ignore the flames that licked at their legs and enter the inn.

The staircase had burned away, leaving nothing but ashes. The rescue team preformed a quick search for anything that could help them reach the second floor. The trapped girl leaned into the opening, still cradling the hysterical baby. She knelt at the hole where the staircase used to be and carefully held the baby out for one of them to take. Even then, the rescue party would need a boost to reach it. Josak cursed, though it went unheard under the noise of the all-encompassing roar. There was nothing on this floor they could use that wasn't already burned. The girl saw they couldn't take the child, so she stood again and sat up in the gap, simply watching them. Her expression was that of one who has accepted their fate.

One of the younger men motioned to Josak. The spy followed the instructions mimed out and knelt for the man. Josak could have sworn the flames were getting hotter and hotter by the second. When he stood, the younger man stretched up through the gap. Their combined height reached the opening. The young woman quickly handed him the baby. He passed it down to the young man who idolized Yuuri. The other adult motioned for the young man to leave and save the child, and when the younger didn't move, he took the baby and fled with it. The other two waited to help the woman.

The man atop Josak's shoulders managed to pull himself up into the room above, using the spy as leverage. He motioned to the woman and to the men bellow. More or less, the message got across. He was going to try and lower her through the gap, if they could catch her halfway.

The young woman had too full a petticoat, Josak noted. Bits of her dress had already caught fire as they swept on the floor of the second story. Even so, the younger men and he managed to grab her legs by the thighs while the man above struggled to let her down without losing his grip under her arms. The attempt was eventually completed, and not a moment too soon. A loud pop from the floor above signaled the fire's progress as it aimed for the sky.

The young men each took an arm of the woman and the three ran out of the burning inn. The young woman's petticoat knocked broken wood and caught fire before they exited the building. The noise of the fire only made Josak more aware of the suicidal nature of this rescue, and of the fact he had somehow found himself alone on the first floor of a burning house, counting down the minutes until the fire won and wiped the building from existence. He looked up through the hole. The young man sat perched on the edge. Josak motioned he jump. The man leapt and fell into Josak's outstretched arms.

Not even wasting the time to put the young man down on his feet, Josak spun and rushed out of the inn as if—well, as if fire were licking at his heels.

* * *

_Down it fell…_

* * *

Conrart could barely believe his eyes. Hizzlguard had burned all but to the ground. The town's soldiers held the people back on an incline a little ways away from where the town's gates stood previously. Even the stone had taken a beating in the fire.

He had come with soldiers and the medical team from Covenant Castle. Gisela ran about hurriedly checking and bandaging the largest number of people. Naturally, everyone suffered burns. Luckily, Gwendal had held Yuuri in the castle, refusing to allow the Maoh from venturing to the catastrophe. Conrart could just _imagine_ how Yuuri would react to the sight sprawling before him. Gwendal enforced that the matter of Josak's message needed be addressed first and foremost.

The spy had written speaking of a secret force moving into Shin Makoku. In all likelihood, the burning of Hizzlguard was connected. The last thing the mazoku needed in light of two attacks was the death of their Maoh, which is what would be risked if Yuuri were to react and come out to the village. The shaken townsfolk would be taken as refugees into the capital city anyway, so there was no reason for Yuuri to endanger himself to come to the scene of the crime. The Maoh—the epitome of justice and compassion—was not needed while refugees were herded into the city. He could wait to make his appearance.

"And they lead and we ran right _into the fire_ in order to save that girl—her name's Emma—tried to save a baby by herself, and when we got in, I was given the baby and _ran _for both our lives," a slightly hysterical man who clearly had too much adrenaline was telling Gisela a few feet away from Conrart. "That's the baby, there." He pointed towards a woman who held an infant. "The town medic said the baby isn't hurt other than smoke in the lungs. Those men over there saved the girl."

Conrart followed the indication the hysterical man gave. This team the man spoke of appeared to be a cluster of men a little ways away. There was a woman in a burned dress getting burn treatments applied around her ankles that the men seemed to be centered around. Out of curiosity, Conrart made his way over to them.

"—and the mom was crushed by a beam from the ceiling that had burned on one side," the woman explained more calmly than Conrart would have thought. Then again, it was highly probable that she hadn't had enough time to think about what had just happened. The group all looked down for a moment in silent prayer for the poor mother of the baby they had saved.

"Excuse me; are you the ones who went back into the town while it was still on fire?" Conrart asked. The young group turned to him affirming his suspicions.

"I wondered if you saw anyone acting suspiciously or if you noticed anything about the fire that was odd," he continued. The young rescue team blinked at him blankly. The girl looked to another young man who was sitting with his legs wrapped fully in gauze, supposedly covering a burn he got while in the inn. A man behind this young man cleared his throat.

"The fire wasn't natural at all, Capt'in, if that's what you're asking," the man said using casual language. The language coupled with the use of an honorific title confused Conrart. Until he saw the man, that is. Conrart startled in surprise.

Josak sat with his arms crossed, sunset blue eyes watching his friend.

"Do you think it has anything to do with the situation you mentioned in your message?" Conrart asked, glancing at the younger mazoku cautiously. Josak raised a slim ginger eyebrow. The power in the expression reminded Conrart why Josak was such a good spy. He could tear you down and extract your information methodically.

"I doubt one man could have possibly decided to take on the entire nation in order to steal Lord von Brat, but it's not impossible; nor is it the first time it's been attempted. I mean, just take Lord von Grantz," Josak reasoned calmly. He was comfortable trusting the kids with whatever information Conrart and he would discuss in public like this. However, his confidence faltered when he saw Conrart's confusion.

"What are you talking about, Josak? What have any of the recent events got to do with Wolfram being stolen? Other than the attacker's appearance, what's this got to do with Wolfram at all?" Conrart asked, confused beyond belief.

"I thought you said you got my message," Josak stated, suspicious.

"Yes, we received it. Gwendal is overlooking defenses to hold off the army's attack."

"What the Hell are you talking about, Weller? I never sent anything of the like!" Josak clarified, taken aback. "My message was that the goal isn't to overthrow Young Master Yuuri or even to harm mazoku. The attacker wants Wolfram."

Conrart stared in shock, digesting his friend's revelation. He couldn't believe it. Yet, here sat his friend, telling him directly that for the first time Josak's message had been intercepted and changed. A changed message changed how prepared the capital's defense would be. They had taken the bait and readied for the wrong attack.

When Conrart told Gisela he would have to return to the castle immediately, he promised to get more help sent out so that the fire victims could be transported to the city. He mounted his horse and readied to depart. Josak appeared on his steed beside Conrart.

"Should you be riding with burns like that, Josak?" Conrart asked. Josak shrugged. The ginger then smirked to show he didn't mind.

"I have a feeling that Gwendal will want a first-hand report, especially since it's Wolfram we're talking about, here," Josak reasoned. Conrart nodded.

The two friends set their horses for the capital and rode off.

Dane's trick had failed. Not only was the note discovered to be a fake, but now, the Maoh had the ginger spy back on his side to give a proper report. The plan would fall through. The mazoku at the castle wouldn't be quite as unprepared as Dane had hoped.

"I want to hold the baby on the way to the capital!" Emma called to the medic holding the infant Emma had saved at the risk of her own death. The medic came over right away. The young woman took the now silent child, rocking it back and forth in her arms. She smiled at the three young men of her rescue team. "All four of us should ride in together."

The young men agreed.

"I do hope that King Yuuri will come to see us!" expressed the Maoh's fan. He looked a little like a girl given the chance to meet a celebrity crush.

"Me too, Brandon, and maybe we can try for a job in the castle," the second man said to the first. He was calmer, but the excitement in his tone was the same.

"Oh, that would be lovely, Howell! Do you think His Majesty will remember us?" Emma asked. She smiled, and despite the soot and burns on her face, the expression was beautiful.

"I-I doubt that he will, I mean, we haven't seen him for so many years, and stuff…" Howell replied, trying to hide the blush that came through the ash coating his cheeks.

"Nonsense! We were a few of the first people His Majesty met when he came to Shin Makoku; he's _bound_ to remember us!" Brandon cried, slapping an arm around his friend's shoulder.

Emma giggled. "And what about you, Daniel? Do you want to meet His Majesty Yuuri?"

"If we stay in the capital long enough and find work at the castle, I think it's inevitable that we'll come face to face with King Yuuri," the third young man asserted.

His companions fell to excitement, and pledged to get at least one of their company into a position in the castle. Soldier and maid positions were always open, right? You could never have too much help around.

The third man half listened to the babble. Soon, the Maoh would lead them into the capital to recover and heal under the Maoh's watchful protection. There was no need to sneak in when he was just another poor burned victim of the Hizzlguard attack. And even though his plan had landed him with this Maoh-loving group, he could use them as cover. If the spy knew his name, the castle would be looking out for him, but the warning would be no good if that name didn't exist.

Dane smiled at his new, unassuming friends who were attacked by none other than the boy following them to a cart the medics had brought.

"Come on Daniel! If you don't hurry up, you're gonna end up next to Emma, sitting on the wrong end of the baby!" Brandon yelled back to him.

Yuuri wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

Word Count: 3,954


	9. TWBALL 9

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

I am sorry I haven't updated in forever. The chapter will likely be underwhelming. (I am so sorry.) I got a bit caught up in life and I forgot about this story. I will work to update it again soon.

-K

9

* * *

_There was no need to sneak in_

* * *

The gates to the capital city were propped open with heavy beams as the refugees were hustled into the temporary haven. Soldiers bustled about, helping settle the victims into their new temporary homes and taking names so that families could be reunited. The city's main street was in chaos. Residents of the capital rushed to help the refugees feel at home in their city. Some people brought out food or blankets to offer the victims.

"Look," Brandon exclaimed, peeking out the window as the wagon brought him and his friends closer to the castle that stood at the city's highest point. His fellow occupants leaned forward to see what Brandon indicated with a finger. There a handsome man—so pretty he could only be one of the country's demon occupants—stood in the middle of the street, shouting orders to soldiers and snapping directions to medics as the refugees were moved in. He must have been six feet tall at shortest. His demeanor was that of a well experienced commander who not only had the authority over the troops but also the respect of his men. As the young adults gaped at him from their cart, the military man they met at the camp outside their village appeared beside the commander. They spoke quickly and quietly to one another as the young people's cart passed them. The military man then jogged over to the cart behind them to help its occupants to disembark. The commander brought a hand to his face, rubbing away what could have been sweat or a headache.

Their cart rolled to a stop and the door opened to reveal a woman about their age who sported a head of ridiculously curly red-chestnut hair. She had the kind of face that was designed to be filled with laughter; and though it was blank of an expression when the doors of the wagon first opened, it quickly twitched into a calming smile.

"Hi there! My name's Greta," the young woman said with an appropriate balance of cheer and dismay. She tilted her head slightly as she spoke. The movement dislodged some of the curls around her face, causing them to fall into her eyes in a not-unattractive manner.

Emma, who had stepped out of the wagon first, smiled shyly. She had never had many female friends, and she got along better with boys anyway. The redhead grinned at the baby in the other young lady's arms. The baby squirmed a little and made a soft cooing noise.

"Hello, I'm Brandon; this is Emma, Howell and Daniel," Brandon introduced, indicated each of his party respectably. Greta curtsied shallowly to each, expressing her joy that they had come to the city mostly unharmed. She eyed the burns on Emma's dress and the bandages wrapped around different limbs on all four of them. Her eyes dwelled on Daniel. He was notably older than the other three, though it may have simply been the serious expression on his face. He met her eyes and offered a smile. She shrugged off the warning in her gut. She was being silly.

"We need to get you checked in with those soldiers." The refugees looked to the indicated soldiers who were currently writing down the information of a middle aged woman and her daughter. The group didn't move when their cart rolled away to make room for the next waiting to come in.

"Um...so we just…what? Tell them who we are?" Howell asked the young woman hesitantly. The three weren't novices in the refugee department. They had plenty of time shuffling through refugee camps when they were younger. Unrealistically, they had hoped being shuttled into the capital would be a different experience.

"Yep, but I'll come with you if you'd like," Greta offered. She shuffled her feet a little bit in the dirt, though her smile never faltered. She looked a little nervous, but shook it off quickly, spinning and gently pushing Emma's shoulders forward in the direction of the check point. "The officers don't really like that I'm down here; they'd prefer me out of the way."

"You know the officers?" Brandon asked excitedly, matching the young woman's stride.

"Down here?" Emma asked shyly, hugging the baby lightly.

"Out of the way?" Howell asked calmly, tilting his head slightly.

"Ah," Daniel said calmly, drawing his companions' attention. "You're the Maoh's child."

Greta giggled and released Emma's shoulders, spinning around to watch them as she walked backwards. She clasped her hands behind her back and gave them a dopey grin, a blush growing on her cheeks.

"Yep, Greta Shibuya is my full name," she paused, glancing at the sky thoughtfully for a moment. "Or maybe it's Greta von Bielefeld…I'm not sure how it works out."

"WHHHAAAT?" Brandon, Howell and Emma cried in surprise, startling the baby a little. It started to cry and Emma set about trying to calm the baby down.

"Yep, but I like you guys and I'm kinda going incognito, as they say, so don't go blabbing it or Gwen will send me home," Greta giggled turning in a twirl and taking her stance against Emma's shoulders anew.

The young men exchanged glances a bit nervously. Howell shrugged. Brandon grinned. Daniel nodded. The three started off after the girls.

Dane was not the only one of the group that couldn't believe his luck.

* * *

_The attacker wants Wolfram…_

* * *

The rumble of wagon wheels and the shouts of soldiers directing traffic and refugees wafted through the windows like the sounds of rain and thunder. The sound taunted him. The prisoner atop the simple sheets of the simple bed rolled onto his side to stare out the window.

When the refugees first arrived, it was an audible commotion. The noble gathered from the guards at his door that a village had been attacked. The city had become a safe haven. Two attacks in such a short time spelled war. The Maoh was against war, but even he couldn't ignore it if it came to him; however, the nation wasn't ready for it.

If he were closer to the glass Wolfram would surely be able to see the work in the streets. His family was out to help the refugees. Yuuri, his brothers, his mother, even Greta had offered to help. Gwendal would take command of the effort; Conrart would shuttle people in, a personable soldier to relieve their fear; Gunter would organize and assist Gwendal in management; Lady Cecilie and Lady Anissina would give their all to assist the medical units and soothe the refugees; little Greta would lighten the refugees' spirits and aid in direction, calm them enough to listen to the others; and Yuuri—Yuuri would simply be his dimwitted optimistic self, and he'd try to help with _everything_.

All of them would help out to the fullest to settle the refugees of Shin Makoku's second attack, the attack that proved Wolfram's innocence; yet, here he remained, locked in his room under military watch—_completely_ _useless_.

The notion that his family could entertain the idea that he was the one behind the attacks on the border was painful; more than that, the notion that _Yuuri_ believed it a possibility. Now that another attack had taken place while Wolfram was behind bars could only help to prove his innocence, but it was a bitter victory.

Shin Makoku was set up for a war with an unknown enemy. War reaped many victims and cut short their lives. Wolfram believed in Yuuri's abilities as a ruler, but the Maoh had never had to face war in his country. Up to now, he shut down any suggestion of war, but there were no negotiations if the enemy was invisible. The attacker could be anyone, anywhere, and of any profession.

The blonde pushed himself into a sideways seated position. The one advantage Shin Makoku had, Wolfram figured, was that they knew what the attacker looked like. With Wolfram in custody, the attacker wouldn't be mistaken for the noble again. Any human or mazoku who looked like Wolfram would be easily identified. At least, they would be if Yuuri had the sense to publicize the attacker's appearance.

Of course, Yuuri and his brothers would first need to be convinced that Wolfram wasn't the perpetrator and working with a second party. If they assumed it was a joint job, it could still be possible for Wolfram to be in custody and behind the village attack.

He was sick of hearing the soldiers whisper rumors and suspicions to one another just on the other side of the door. They questioned how trustable his story; how reliable the Maoh's judgment; how clearheaded Gwendal's actions were given the situation. The soldiers were entitled to their own opinions, but it was demoralizing to hear the extent to which they doubted the decisions of their superiors, their Maoh.

Yuuri had to clear up this mess like he always did. It had to be done soon before his subjects grew too suspicious and discovered that he didn't know what he was doing. After all, Yuuri rarely _knew_ what he was doing. He acted on his gut. It was better, however, for the country and her allies to think the Maoh had a plan. The attacks made ripples in that illusion. He needed to figure this mess out soon or the attacker wouldn't be the only problem on the Maoh's plate.

Wolfram sighed heavily. He walked to the window sill and perched on the edge. He gazed down upon the streets below. He looked for the people he knew were down there—Gisela barking orders; Gunter and Gwendal in the center of everything; Josak by the entrance to the city; Conrart by the wagons to help refugees out of the vehicles; Greta running along with a small group of children her age; Yuuri making his way to his daughter—_their _daughter.

Yuuri smiled like a moron and greeted the children happily, like he hadn't a care in the world. It was his defense to the horrors of life. If he let them take over his mind, he wouldn't smile ever again.

"Yuuri…"

The tears were heavy as they rolled down his fair cheek. He didn't reach to wipe the away. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. It wasn't a shock that Yuuri wouldn't be affected by the situation, but it still hurt to know that the Maoh didn't miss or crave his company. Even so, it was something Wolfram had always known, which had started this whole fiasco in the first place.

Blue eyes to match the sky opened despite the tears. He watched the refugees thoughtlessly. They came to the city to escape the perils of their destroyed homes. Yuuri was his home. He needed a place to escape the perils of his heart.

* * *

_Yuuri wouldn't know what hit him._

* * *

"Yuuri!" Greta called, waving.

The Maoh finished his brief conversation with one of the older female refugees and turned his attention to his daughter. She walked towards him with a small group of adolescents in her wake—three boys and a girl who held a baby, all around Greta's age. The princess stopped as he started towards her with a kind smile.

Yuuri had heard rumors of the girl who had run into a burning house to save a baby and the teenage group who had in turn run back into the village with Josak to save the girl. One look at the teenagers suggested that these were those heroes.

"Yuuri, this is Emma, Howell, Brandon and Daniel," Greta introduced.

Emma turned pink, fidgeting with the baby's blanket.

Howell shifted his weight uncomfortably, blushing in turn.

Brandon grinned excitedly and waved.

Daniel simply watched the Maoh, no reaction showing in his expression.

The lack of reaction caught Yuuri's attention, though he forced himself to look away and pretend he saw nothing. Daniel's eyes were dangerous. There was buried anger in his aquamarine irises.

"They wanted to meet you!" Greta continued happily. "Howell and Brandon and Emma say they've met you before. Sometime when you first came to Shin Makoku."

"In that case, it is nice to meet you three again," Yuuri smiled.

Brandon launched into a monologue about how Yuuri had saved him and how he'd saved their refugee village from the flames set by the humans of a neighboring country. The young man clearly idolized the Maoh. Yuuri listened politely as the boy's friends interjected details and remarks. Though it all, Daniel remained silent, watching the Maoh with those angry eyes.

"I imagine that you four are rather hungry after your excursion today. Lady Anissina is handing out bowls of food if you wish to eat some."

The group turned to Conrart who walked towards them, a small, unreadable smile on his face. The refugees curtsied and bowed to the Maoh, pulling Greta with them as they went for the food.

"Your Highness?" Conrart prompted with a soft touch to Yuuri's shoulder.

"You see it too, I'm sure." Yuuri replied, his eyes glued to the retreating back of the teenagers.

"See what specifically, Yuuri?" Gunter asked, approaching Conrart's backside alongside Gwendal.

"That boy, he's not from Shin Makoku, is he?" Yuuri explained, more a statement than a question.

"What are you getting at, Your Majesty?" Gwendal asked irritably, rubbing his brow, fighting off his already-present headache.

"Blond hair, bright blue eyes, an angry expression, and those clothes aren't worn enough in the right places for a boy from Hizzlguard…" Yuuri took a deep breath, letting his eyelids slip down over his charcoal eyes. He massaged his nose, a vain attempt to curl the pounding behind his eye sockets. (He should have realized this job lead to chronic headaches.)

When he released the breath with a sigh and opened his eyes, Yuuri turned to face Conrart with one of his godfather's patented smiles.

"Maybe, given the situation, I just miss hearing his blunt advice, but doesn't that boy look a bit _too_ similar to Wolf?"

* * *

Word Count: 2,387


	10. TWBALL 10

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

10

_Shall we get down to business?_

* * *

Ulrike raised the delicate cup the maids had brought out and took a shallow sip of the tea therein. The men had asked her to come along, but she didn't see the purpose. There wasn't much she could help with. While she understood the traditions of engagement and a little of the men's lengthy plan for Shin Makoku, she hardly knew Yuuri or Wolfram well; and far be it from her to judge their relationship. However, it saddened her to see the two in such turmoil when the land was under attack. Murata sure seemed to believe the two problems were connected, but Ulrike had trouble seeing how.

"The attack on the border was step one in the attacker's plan—whatever that may be," Murata reasoned calmly. He took a sip of his tea, rolling it around in his mouth, eyes obscured by the shine of his glasses. Shin Makoku's daikenja would work his way to the base of this situation no matter how difficult it seemed. The attacker's appearance had to have some significance. Murata schemed and manipulated for his king for multiple lifetimes. As such, it was very difficult to believe in coincidence.

"And the attack on Hizzlguard was step two, but why? What is the purpose?" Shinou puzzled. He sat atop Ulrike's shoulder; his arms and legs crossed, his brow creased. The attacks threatened the ideal Shin Makoku he had hoped Yuuri could create. If the current Maoh fell back on the violent tactics used by previous rulers, he would prove his soul wasn't the one for which Shinou had hoped and would likely lose the respect and trust of the support of the surrounding human nations. If the current Maoh was lenient as he often was, he would prove that he was an ignorant ruler and would lose the respect of his people. It was a bad situation for Yuuri no matter how it worked out.

"There _must_ be some connection with Lord von Bielefeld," Murata continued. Ulrike set down her tea cup quietly. If he hadn't figured out his connection as of yet, she doubted she or the First King would be any assistance in discovering it.

"It could be a message to grab King Yuuri's attention," Ulrike offered quietly.

She hadn't much conviction in her theory, but the conversation had already torn through six possibilities: coincidence; an attack on the von Bielefeld name; an assassination warning to the Maoh; an assassination warning to the noble; an attempt to frame the Maoh's fiancé and thereby attempt to implicate a corrupt government; and they had even considered the attacker's possible desire to remove the noble so he could take the blonde's place as the Maoh's partner.

The men gave Ulrike their full attention. They both lived for so many lifetimes, but Ulrike's one life stretched across a number of those. Her opinion was more than useful. She straightened her back with a pop. Slowly, she continued:

"I mean, he could have taken on Lord von Bielefeld's appearance in order to make a statement about their relationship? We've previously discussed the implications they both have on the ruling of Shin Makoku, so it could be that the attacker meant it as a…metaphorical…criticism of Yuuri's leadership."

The old mazoku watched the young daikenja expectantly. He would surely find a fault with her reasoning. Yet, Murata seemed to turn the theory over in his head, spending much more time on it than she expected. Shinou leaned forward slightly, inspecting his top adviser curiously.

"But what if, maybe," Murata stalled, thinking through his words before he allowed them to escape his throat. He met Ulrike's eyes—his held fathomless lifetimes of knowledge and experience that she could simply not match despite her lengthy life regardless of how prized her opinions were to him. "What if the statement _isn't_ so metaphorical?"

"What do you mean?" Shinou asked. The small king was as confused as the shrine maiden by the workings of Murata's mind and neither followed his reasoning or wording in this instance.

"The attacker could have intended a literal statement about Lord von Bielefeld and Shibuya's relationship, but the goal isn't to replace Lord von Bielefeld," Murata reasoned, growing more confident in his idea as he spoke.

"You mean a personal quarrel with King Yuuri as opposed to a military action against Shin Makoku?" Ulrike asked slowly. She wasn't sure she followed. If it was a personal attack, why had he not simply attacked the capital?

"Yuuri does travel quite often and he does not expend much energy in hiding his opinion of his betrothal, but that would suggest that the attacker's goal is in fact…Wolfram," Shinou allowed.

"Which explains why there were no attacks between the sites since it was only meant to lock Lord von Bielefeld in an obvious place an distract Shibuya enough that he wouldn't work it out," Murata continued excitedly. He couldn't help but entertain the joy that came from rationalizing a problem. He could never resist. "Imagine it: Yuuri embarked on a trip to Cavalcade—"

"Though he could be from any foreign land and using Cavalcade as a gateway to Shin Makoku given our good standing with Queen Beatrice," Ulrike interrupted.

"And with his angelic fiancé in tow they draw the attention of any who gaze upon them," Shinou continued before the daikenja had the chance.

"And Lord von Bielefeld may have even won the affections of one of the onlookers; he is quite handsome," Ulrike reasoned thoughtfully.

"After all, Wolfram did inherit _my _good looks," Shinou interjected smugly.

"From the outside, the two's engagement appears problematic, maybe even emotionally abusive on one side or the other," Murata sighed.

"It's almost _natural _that the enamored onlooker would take it upon himself—" Shinou started.

"Given that the attacker looks like Wolfram, we _could_ be looking for a woman," Murata interjected.

"Upon him—_or her—_self to intervene directly," the first king finished.

"To _save_ Lord von Bielefeld, for lack of a better word," Ulrike said, completing the theory.

Murata grinned like a fox. He felt that he could sympathize with the attacker to some degree. The strategist had found his own eyes wandering over the von Bielefeld's body on a number of occasions. He had happened across his own thoughts of saving the soldier from his frustrations with his fiancé. While he had no doubts that his feelings were merely friendly, it wasn't a far stretch to imagine the attacker's enamored mind set.

The one problem with the plan, as Murata saw it, was Wolfram's containment. Even if the attacker intended for the Lord to be held in an identifiable place, how did he plan to break into the castle and retrieve him? The attack on Hizzlguard would give him an excuse to enter the capital without question. After all, the refugees weren't scanned as they came in to the capital. No one checked to see if they were indeed citizens of Shin Makoku. Assuming the attacker slipped in unnoticed, Murata couldn't reason how he planned to get inside the walls.

In any case, he needed to talk to Shibuya.

This situation was delicate, but not impossible to work through.

* * *

_Doesn't that boy look a bit too similar…_

* * *

"Wah~! Really? So you used to play with Conrart!" Greta cried excitedly.

Brandon grinned widely in return.

Emma re-tucked the baby blanket around its legs.

Howell rolled his eyes. He had no doubts that Brandon was going to work his way into the castle as soon as possible—be it through employment or the princess. As things looked currently, Brandon had the route through the girl all but secured.

Daniel silently sipped his soup, mostly ignoring his companions. Now that he was inside the city, the hard work truly began. Unlike with his previous movements, he needed to stay below the radar in the capital; draw no attention to himself or his actions.

For now, he could use the refugee kids as good cover, but they could also quickly become a liability. Maoh lovers wouldn't understand his sentiments, and they would ask questions if they noticed anything that seemed to threaten the king. Although such unofficial watchdogs were a difficulty, he had to admit that it was a good protective strategy to build such a network. The Maoh himself was so foolish and naïve, but with the people on his side, he was a power with which to reckon.

Daniel turned his eyes upon the princess as he calmly lowered his spoon to the bowl once more. She was beautiful in a somewhat unruly way. While the expressions came across as dopey on her father's face, they lit up rambunctiously on Greta's features. The curly chestnut hair bounced actively as she spoke, uncontrollably conveying her emotions. She was a fitting daughter of such a carefree Maoh, he figured.

Greta did not appear the type to listen very closely to the voice of authority. Perhaps that was due to the authority she held herself, though she did not flaunt her power—a similar characteristic to the Maoh. She was clearly an intelligent girl. Daniel caught her analyzing the refugee foursome repeatedly. He could never determine what conclusion she reached, but the analysis was clear in her amber eyes. The others didn't notice it.

"Daniel?"

He jerked himself out of his thoughts in a moment of panic. Brandon burst into laughter. Emma flinched as soup flew in her direction from his spoon. Howell raised an eyebrow quizzically. It was Greta who clued him in to the conversation.

"Would you like to visit the castle before everything settles and everyone gets home?" the girl asked. Her eyes were sharp as she watched him. She was reading him, he realized. Not it was anything to worry about. He tricked, lied and masqueraded his way here past numerous adults. The young princess of the demon world wouldn't succeed in finding anything he didn't want her to.

"That would be excellent," he agreed. He needed to give her something to latch onto. Otherwise she would grow suspicious simply based on how well he hid from her. "Could we possibly swing by the stables? I like horses. Mine…ran away before the fire broke out."

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry to hear that," the girl gushed. Daniel felt that she was burying something herself that she didn't want him to see. "What kind of horse was it?"

"It was a white Andalusian," he answered, standing with the rest of the young group.

"We have one of those!" Greta smiled, hair bouncing flirtatiously. Yes, he knew the horse of which she spoke.

The princess skirted them around the side of the castle wall rather than enter through the main entrance. It was because they were going to the stables, she explained, which were around the castle on the back side. The Hizzlguard trio nearly vibrated with excitement. Daniel controlled himself much better, though his heart beat quickly. Though he could do nothing on this trip inside the castle walls, his hair stood on end. He was so close to his lovely prince. The princess would lead him straight to his prize without even realizing it.

"So, where's the Maoh's fiancé? The uptight blond guy," Brandon asked conversationally. Daniel glanced at the boy. How could it be that he asked something so critical without even knowing what he asked? It was amazing just how helpful this group was to Daniel. He carefully kept his excitement hidden, allowing only an acceptable amount to slip by his iron control.

Greta tensed up at the question. For the first time since they'd met her, she took a moment to respond. It was uncomfortable for her, Daniel realized gleefully. When she did react, the cheery smile was perfectly back in place—the calculated sweetness of a true public figure.

"Wolf is away from the capital right now, actually," she answered, peppy as always. The cheer was fake this time. The Hizzlguard trio didn't take notice. "His uncle asked him to visit the von Bielefeld territory."

"Kinda bad timing for a vacation…" Howell murmured. Greta giggled. It was a musical sound, one that put you off your guard. She was more dangerous than she let on, Daniel realized. Like him, she had the skills to hide if necessary. Those skills worked two ways—to hide and to discover.

"Maybe, but he left before the attacks," she explained brightly. "Von Bielefeld land is some ways away, but I'm sure he'll be back in no time, given the situation."

They reached the stable without running into a soul. It was surely a feat given how busy the capital had gotten with soldiers running all about. Greta stepped up and slipped through a crack in the wall that looked big enough for only her.

Emma passed through the baby before copying the princess. The girl hesitated halfway through, unsure that she would fit fully. With Greta's encouragement, the girl broke through the other side of the castle gate with a gasp. She stared up at the looming castle wall in wonder. The building looked large from outside the walls, but standing beside it was a whole different experience. The tiers reached high for the clouds overhead, scraping the sky mercilessly. Even the stairs—to what Emma figured was the kitchen exit—were magnificent and large. Suddenly, her idea of applying for work as a maid in the castle seemed laughable.

Daniel cautiously proceeded after the girls, catching his shoulders for a moment in the narrowest part of the crack. He pushed his way forward, his muscle and thin layer of fat giving in to the shape of the stones, allowing him to slip through. He looked up at the building before him in just as much stupefaction as Emma. As close as he was to his goal, how could he _possibly _hope to find the prince in the entirety of the castle? He had not planned for it to be quite so large.

Brandon pushed Howell through the opening, losing patience for the other boy's reservations about passing through the crack. The two of them tumbled through into the stable courtyard. They fell over each other and landed in a confused mess of limbs. Greta and Emma giggled. Daniel rolled his eyes, but offered a hand to help them stand again.

"Is this the entrance to the stables, Lady Greta?" Brandon asked like he hadn't just fallen on his face, hands on his hips overlooking the stable building.

"Just Greta," the girl corrected when her giggles subsided. "And yep, this is the stable! There are only a few horses in there now since everyone is out helping all of you from Hizzlguard into the city. Yuuri's is in; Jozak's is in; and… the Andalusian…is in."

Daniel smiled, feeling her eyes on him as he looked at the stable. The horses didn't matter to him. They were just animals. But as the sun lowered in the late afternoon sky, Greta's hair sparked and ignited. In its curls and full body, it picked up the late sun and stole some of its light. The effect was a mane that seemed to emit light of its own accord; a mane of amber fire around her face.

For a moment in the late afternoon sun, the princess looked just like the prince had done in the evening light when he and Yuuri visited Her Lady Beatrice all those years ago.

* * *

Word Count: 2,582


	11. TWBALL 11

Kyou Kara Maoh: To Win Back A Love Lost

11

_A place to escape the perils of his heart _

* * *

The knock at the door would not have woken him normally. After all, the blond prince was a famously heavy sleeper. Perhaps it woke him because it was—in fact—the early evening and the bored noble had been sleeping all afternoon. Perhaps it was the peculiar loudness of the knock that had woke him. It was fairly demanding—unlike all the rest that had requested permission to enter since his arrest.

Wolfram sat up in bed. He was in his uniform like when he lay down earlier in the day. Although there was no need for him to dress up formally as such, Wolfram always put on his uniform when he woke in the morning. It was a habit he had formed shortly after joining the military when he was young.

The door opened without waiting for a response. He had gotten used to such behavior from some of the guards. They were no doubt hoping to catch him changing. They had yet to succeed. It was enough excitement to keep them entertained and to keep him on his toes. However, when the door opened fully, it wasn't the guards busting in as normal.

"Sorry, but I need a quiet place to lie down for a second," Yuuri announced, closing and locking the door behind him before marching purposefully to the bed where he promptly flopped on his back beside the blond mazoku.

Yuuri bend up his right arm, pressing his inner elbow into his eyes. Wolfram stared down at the king. When the Maoh didn't move, Wolfram slowly tucked his knees beneath his chin, arms wrapping around them protectively. He was a good soldier, a good nobleman, and Wolfram von Bielefeld could wait for his king to speak first.

The wait felt as if it lasted forever. The sun was significantly low in the sky by the time the Maoh broke the silence. When Yuuri broke it, his voice was both the only and last thing in the world Wolfram wished to hear.

"Josak came back with news," Yuuri muttered. He was quiet enough that Wolfram had to listen intently to hear his words, but loud enough that Wolfram didn't need to lean down.

He sounded worn out like too little butter spread out on too much bread. It wasn't a typical tone for Yuuri. He could sound tired; he could sound overwhelmed; he could sound frustrated; he could sound annoyed; he could sound anxious; however, Yuuri never sounded like all five at once. Yet, that was the tone, and no matter how hard Wolfram tried to find it, the cheerful undertone that permeated all Yuuri's speech was simply absent.

Yuuri was exhausted.

"Oh?" Wolfram was curious but guarded. Yuuri couldn't blame him. After all, they'd locked him up and the Maoh hadn't seen him for a few days. The mazoku had every right to be wary; especially because he was innocent, punished for another's crime. The attack on Hizzlguard proved his innocence. Unless evidence of espionage and conspiracy magically fabricated, Wolfram couldn't have attacked anyone; elsewise the attack on Hizzlguard would not have happened.

Josak had no doubts that the two situations were related—Hizzlguard and the Cavalcade border. In addition, the knowledge that the messenger pigeon had been intercepted mid-flight suggested that the aggressor had substantial knowledge of how Yuuri's government and confidents operated.

"The attack on Hizzlguard came at just the wrong time," Yuuri continued as if he hadn't heard the blond make a sound. Wolfram stayed silent this time, resting his cheek on his raised knees so as to look at his king more fully—the elegant curve of his nose and brow, the dip of his stomach just barely visible even through the single-toned clothing he wore, the pout of his defined lips.

Yuuri lifted his arm away from his eyes. His body stretched out in a long slim line as the Maoh reached for the headboard. He looked sleepy—like he was going to fall asleep any second now. His eyes, however, were sharp and narrow with no hint of drowsiness in their depths. His irises were like a surging tide—dark and liquid and commanding.

Wolfram's blood ran cold as if his system had been flooded with icy water. His heart beat faster to move the slushy fluid through his arteries, his veins. Yuuri's eyes were like tempests and still ponds and the ocean. Wolfram felt a little queasy, but he couldn't look away. He'd met those eyes on multiple occasions: the eyes of the fated and proper Maoh.

Wolfram pressed his eyes against his raised knees. He couldn't run, but he could still hide from that stare. The Maoh frightened Wolfram, reminded him of the power that slept deep within Yuuri's soul. That stare made his heart turn painfully to ice. Yuuri could entrance him so easily, but he would not see the noble cry in fear.

Wolfram didn't worry about the rejection that could come if Yuuri saw his tears; nor did he fear the pity or the frustration. What frightened Wolfram was the not-impossible chance that he would see compassion in Yuuri's eyes. Compassion gave him hope that Yuuri could return his feelings and he couldn't put himself through that again. The hope only set him up for the long fall when it was proved wrong again.

He hid his eyes, but the compassion came anyway. The Maoh place a light hand on the blonde's shoulder. It barely ghosted above the jacket but Wolfram felt it like a thunderclap.

Yuuri sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling his hand back. Wolfram hazarded half a peek from behind his knees. The king stared at the door, his brow scrunched, his eyes narrowed, his hands balled into fists on his lap.

"What was it that was too much for you to handle?"

The question caught Wolfram off guard again. He sat up fully, watching Yuuri's face, though the Maoh didn't look his way. The von Bielefeld turned his response over in his mouth. Perched on the tip of his tongue, his reasons seemed less and less reasonable. Nonetheless, his reasons were still valid.

"Exactly as I said in my letter," Wolfram answered flatly. He could feel his anger bubbling up within his chest. His muscles tensed involuntarily. He focused and forced them to relax. He bit back all the snappy, angry explanations and excuses. His eyes were no doubt see-through, so he focused on a point on the other side of the room. Wolfram would not make a scene. He refused to lose his control. "It's not in Shin Makoku's best interests that I continue to work as your guard."

Yuuri turned and looked at his friend. Yuuri understood Wolfram's desire to do the best he could for the nation. It was one of the first things he had learned about Wolfram after meeting the man. No matter if he disliked a person or an order, he would always obey if it was for the benefit of the mazoku. Wolfram took great pride in his demon lineage. And although Yuuri couldn't understand, Wolfram doubtlessly believed his claim; otherwise, he wouldn't have left initially.

Whether or not it was true that Wolfram shouldn't continue as a guard, Yuuri couldn't truthfully say that he hadn't seen it coming. He wasn't blind to Wolfram's failed attempts to progress their relationship. Wolfram moved forward at a faster pace than Yuuri was ready. It took time to accept the engagement. And Yuuri had done so. He had grown comfortable with the notion over the years. He cared for Wolfram, as much as the other didn't believe it.

Wolfram shut down. It was an anger management technique Yuuri knew Conrart had taught the youngest of the three brothers. He'd seen Wolfram use the method hundreds of times in the last years. The fire mazoku would share his opinions with Yuuri in private later, but the technique kept the raging emotions at bay until Wolfram felt comfortable sharing them. The Maoh reasoned he wouldn't be getting an explanation from the mazoku anytime soon.

Yuuri sighed, slowly lying down once again. He rolled onto his side facing his friend, his fiancé. This was how they worked through all the difficult situations. Yuuri was a strong believer in thinking before acting, and Wolfram would discuss things with him, help him work through the jumbled mess of facts and justice in his head. They would sit on their bed and express everything that they felt, thought, theorized. When Wolfram was angry, he would stand up and pace in front of the windows. He'd tell Yuuri all that was on his mind, his annoyances. At least, Yuuri thought so, but after Wolfram unexpectedly ran off, Yuuri couldn't be so sure.

Wolfram glanced at Yuuri flightily. Each time the aquamarine orbs darted in his direction, the Maoh knew exactly where to look to meet them squarely. It caused the noble's heart to jolt, but he couldn't help himself. No matter how often he looked away, his eyes were drawn to Yuuri again and again.

"I haven't been sleeping very well," Yuuri admitted sheepishly, another attempt at conversation. He raised his hand to rub the back of his head—a habit he'd always fall into when he was nervous. Indeed, the king sported bags the color of bruises beneath his sharp eyes. When stressed, Yuuri tended not to sleep well, Wolfram knew. He felt a little guilty.

Another knock sounded at the door. Wolfram dropped his feet to the floor. He didn't need those guards seeing him so vulnerable. Yuuri actually stood up from the bed, watching the door. When the Maoh made no move to answer the knock, Wolfram stood and made his way to the door. He unlocked it and turned the knob at the same time as the person on the other side turned it.

The door swung open more quickly than Wolfram anticipated, but he caught himself before he embarrassingly lost his balance. Murata tried to jump back a little, instead stumbling forward gracelessly as the door opened before him unexpectedly quick. Wolfram backed away from the daikenja, eyes flicking to the guards behind the man. He didn't need them assuming he had injured the man in any way.

"Murata!" Yuuri cried, rushing forward. Murata steadied his stance and shooed away Yuuri's offer to assist. The strategist swiftly closed the door behind him before the guards could begin asking him if he was alright. As Yuuri did, Murata snapped closed the door's lock.

"I should have guessed you'd be in here, Shibuya," Murata said unsurprised. He motioned for the pair to sit on the bed as he walked forward. Neither moved. Murata rolled his eyes and situated himself to sit on the mattress in their place. Before sitting, the daikenja undid his jacket and produced a long package which he set down on the bed beside him.

"What is that, Murata?" Yuuri asked once Murata had settled, indicating the package.

"That's my sword," Wolfram answered in the strategists place.

The pretty man was tense, standing stock-still. His aquamarine eyes glinted with desire. He was accustomed to carrying his sword. It was a constant accessory, always within arm's reach. But why had Murata brought it?

"Yes," Murata said brightly.

Yuuri turned back to the seated man. Why had Murata brought it? Murata could read his mind through his eyes.

"The Hizzlguard attack proves that you're innocent," the man started, turning his eyes from Yuuri to Wolfram. His lips curled up slightly. His eyes were obscured by the light reflected on his glasses. The Maoh and the former prince shared a look. The expression on Murata's face was never a good one.

"So, basically, I'm saying…" Murata pushed his glasses further up his nose, clearing the light glare. He tilted his head slightly and smiled sweetly. Yuuri and Wolfram definitely knew there was something he wasn't telling them. "…that I'm giving this back to you since you'll be acting as Yuuri's guard again."

Wolfram's eyes widened. Murata was his friend, and surely he was joking. After all, the daikenja understood why Wolfram had left. They had discussed it previously. He wanted Wolfram to roll over and complacently stand by the Maoh's side again? Wolfram could hardly consider that course of action.

He left for a reason. Yuuri broke his heart again and again and again. Yuuri disregarded his opinion of Saraluegi and other problematic human leaders. How could Murata ask that he return? No, not ask. The emotion in Murata's eyes made it clear that this request wasn't a _request_ at all. It was an order.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at his friend. He was used to Murata keeping information to himself. He'd always let Yuuri know when he needed to know it. Still, Yuuri didn't like the look in Murata's eyes. It was a serious look; apologetic, commanding, secretive. There was no doubt in his mind that Murata knew something—given the sword, it was likely something about the attacker. But Yuuri couldn't see anything past the pleasant look on his friend's features.

"It'll be better if we can watch both of you at the same time."

The pair had no second thoughts about who the "we" Murata spoke of referred to. It had previously been explicitly explained to them that they were both of interest to His Majesty Shinou.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Yes, Murata."

* * *

Word Count: 2,250


	12. TWBALL 12

12

_The princess looked just like the prince…_

* * *

Greta couldn't be happier when her father came to wish her goodnight. He hadn't even said goodbye before he ran away and the whole situation started. Of course, she knew from the start that Wolfram couldn't be the attacker of the border patrol. It was ridiculous that the rest of her family even entertained the idea. However, she knew that none of them truly believed it. Especially Yuuri. He had to act like the king should, not make exceptions in the law for his fiancé's sake, but Greta was certain that Yuuri had never doubted Wolfram for an instant.

What was concerning, she figured, was the fact that the _real_ perpetrator hadn't yet been identified past his appearance at the time of the border attack. As a human, she could understand the resentment towards the mazoku. She herself had met Yuuri because of a ploy to assassinate him. The world had balanced out significantly during Yuuri's rein. The relations between humans and the mazoku had become neutral if nothing else. It was hard to believe that someone still harbored such negative feelings for Shin Makoku—especially someone from Beatrice's country.

Her Majesty Beatrice had harbored an open opinion of the mazoku since before she took office—having already met the Maoh. It was surprising that one of her citizens, her people, could feel such vehemence against the mazoku so as to attack as ruthlessly as he had done. The border attack wasn't terrible—no one had died; but the Burning of Hizzlguard was too much. Although no one had died in that attack either, so many people had lost their homes. Even her new friends who apparently started off as refugees were sent to restart and rebuild again. It was too harsh.

Nonetheless, the fire proved her father's innocence against all but conspiracy theories, and she was happy to see him again. While he was locked up, she was hardly allowed to see him much. Greta was used to spending so much time with Wolfram since Yuuri would often travel home for unpredictable amounts of time.

The Maoh was getting better at controlling the power, so sometimes he would return to Shin Makoku within an hour of departing having already spent up to a week of time on Earth. It was like time travel, Greta believed. It was cool. However, she did enjoy the times when it would take Yuuri some number of weeks before returning. Wolfram only really got worked up when the Maoh was involved, so he was very calm when the king was away. He would take Greta riding, or teach her to paint, or read stories with her while they waited for Yuuri's return. Wolfram was always anxious, she knew, when Yuuri was away—nervous something would happen in the other world and Yuuri would fail to return. Even so, that time was always fun.

"I hear that you went out to help direct the refugees today, Greta," Wolfram began conversationally, sitting on the edge of her bed. He always sat on the edge of her bed, just like that, whenever he wished her goodnight. She would climb into bed and settle under the covers, while Wolfram would perch. When she was younger, he would read her bedtime stories as he sat on the edge of her bed. Now, he simply talked to her. It was a sign that she was growing up, she supposed, though neither of her parents were eager to see it happen.

"Yep! I went down with Gisela and helped direct people to check-in, food, first aid…And I had to run away from Gwen the _whole_ time because he was _not_ happy that I had gotten down there," Greta reported happily. Her father listened patiently to her excitement, a small smile slipping across his pretty features.

Wolfram was pretty, Greta had decided some time ago. Not in the same way that Gisela was pretty, or even in the same way that Celli was pretty. With his angelic face and blonde halo Wolfram didn't quite fit the criteria for handsome like his brothers. He had to be classified as pretty, but in his own, masculine category. It was hard to explain.

"Yes, I can imagine," her pretty father sympathized, remembering all the times he was young when Gwendal had forbidden him from involving himself in the official goings on in the city. There hadn't passed a lot of time from then to now. Gwendal still attempted to bar him—_shield_ him, Gwendal insisted—from the dealings of the court, despite Wolframs standing as the soon-to-be Prince Consort. Of course, that was before he had broken the engagement. He supposed he was now simply the third son of the former Maoh.

"But I made some friends!" Greta continued excitedly. Wolfram raised a delicate brow. "They know Yuuri and Conrart and you from right after Yuuri came to Shin Makoku. I said that I could probably help them to get jobs in the castle."

"Greta, don't offer jobs to people so easily. We have a criminal on the loose, and Gwendal will throw a fit."

The princess and the former prince both startled in surprise. They hadn't even heard the door open. Now, the door was shut again, Yuuri leaning against it with his arms crossed.

There was no anger in his words, just as there was no anger on his features. All that was there was the exhaustion Wolfram had noted previously. Something in the set of his arms across his chest seemed just a little anxious—as if he suspected his daughter and fiancé of plotting his assassination.

"But _Yuuri_," Greta whined. The tone was one Yuuri didn't doubt she had picked up from Wolfram over the years. "You _met_ them. They're really nice!"

The Maoh made a guttural sound, neither an affirmation nor a denial.

"In any case, we can discuss it in the morning," Wolfram promised as he stood. Yuuri shot him a look, but Wolfram ignored it. Greta smiled brightly. She bounced up to give him a kiss on the cheek. With hurried goodnight wishes for both the men, she curled into her blankets.

Things were getting back to how they should be, she thought happily. The ordeal would clear up. Conrart would catch the bad guy. Her dad's would live happily.

* * *

_Kinda bad timing for a vacation_

* * *

Daniel was restless. He knew he must be patient or he'd give himself away, but it was an easier task in theory than in practice. He had traveled so far, injured so many; he was so close. And yet, he had to wait longer for his prize. It wouldn't do to storm the castle and kidnap the nobleman. He needed a plan.

Ideally, he would have liked to change his name again—something not yet tied to him. However, his opportunity slipped away the moment he was adopted by the Refugee Three, as he had begun to call his companions.

He could think of no explanation to give them as to why he was changing his name. He supposed he could offer that Daniel was an alias—which wasn't untrue—and that he wished to revert to his birth name so family could find him. He tossed that idea as soon as he recognized he would need an extensive backstory explaining the adoption of the alias in the first place.

Also, he already drawn the attention of the enemy party since reaching the capital, introduced by the Refugee Three by his alias, thereby giving the enemy a hold on his appearance, in which case, a new name would not matter. In fact, taking on a new name would only draw suspicion.

Daniel sat up from his personal compartment of ground. The Maoh's men raised canvas tents all about the city for the refugees to camp out the night until more comfortable accommodations could be arranged. Wasn't the Maoh simply _divine_ to take it upon himself to situate all the refugees displaced by this attack? It made Daniel sick to his stomach.

Although he didn't like the mazoku king, the Maoh gave him the idea. It was true that Daniel was stuck as Daniel for as long as he held his appearance. However, it was not the case that limitation truly limited him. People changed appearances all the time. King Yuuri Shibuya himself was known to change his appearance multiple times in his first few years on the throne in order to hide his true identity in foreign lands. If some hair dye and colored plastic could effectively disguise the demon king, it would doubtlessly do the job for him.

Although he would miss his flawless blonde locks and his aquamarine irises that looked so like the perfected features of his one true love, Daniel was willing to forfeit the imitation of the noble in order to obtain the real thing. Silently, he stood and picked his way through the bodies strewn across the ground and made heavy with slumber.

He glanced back at the unconscious shapes of the Refugee Three. Brandon—on his back with limbs thrown out, extended fully; Howell—curled into a ball and sleeping fitfully; and Emma—on her stomach, one hand extended above her head towards the bundled baby, only an arm's reach away.

* * *

_Josak had no doubts that the two situations were related_

* * *

Conrart couldn't sleep. It wasn't that he was worried or nervous, but he felt more alert than he should. Typically, Conrart was not one to let the state of the world affect him—and it didn't, not really—but the prospect of an invisible enemy unsettled him. Apart from the reports from the border of a Wolfram-look-alike, the attacker had no face, no name, and no way to be tracked.

The knowledge that Josak's message had been altered mid-flight added to Conrart's unease. Never in all the years he had worked with Josak had the spy's methods specifically been noticed, let alone identified. It was what made Josak such a good spy, despite his huge size, orange hair and outrageous disguises. The half-mazoku always operated in accordance with the theory that it was more affective to hide by drawing attention. Though, now, he had been found.

Conrart sat up and grabbed his sword. It always stood propped at the end of his bed. He wasn't a paranoid man, but he wanted it to always be within reach should he need it. Silently, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and slipped into his uniform shirt. He already wore the pants, which may have contributed to his restlessness, he supposed. The soldier fastened his sword to his belt and slipped into his shoes.

The door hinges creaked loudly in the silence of the hall. He could come and go as he pleased, but the sound still made him flinch as if he would get caught. He didn't really have a plan. All he knew was that staying in bed would be futile. Perhaps he'd do a quick patrol of the grounds. It might rest his buzzing nerves.

"It's pretty late for a walk."

Conrart spun around, sword drawn and poised at the man's neck before he could properly make out any of his features. The shadowed figure raised his hands in surrender. Conrart narrowed his eyes in his attempt to bring the man's face into focus. He relaxed his stance, withdrawing his weapon enough to convey he wouldn't attack, but no so much as to leave himself unready should the shadow make a move. The shadowed man took a step forward into the moonlight streaming through the tall hallway windows. Josak.

"I didn't notice you," Conrart explained, sheathing his sword with a long elegant motion—perfected from all his years of service. Josak laughed heartily. The sound carried the force of his entire chest with it into the air.

"One of my many skills as a spy, Captain," Josak joked. The ginger rested his hands on the back of his skull. Conrart smiled softly. The captain never laughed, he smiled, sometimes chuckled.

The brunette turned to continue his walk. Josak fell in stride alongside him, no words needed for him to recognize the invitation. He had come to Conrart's room for likely the same reasons the middle son of Lady Celli was out of bed. He was concerned about the attacker's movements. The man seemed fairly unstable given the information he had discovered abroad.

"You say he's after Wolfram," Conrart started thoughtfully. Josak smirked lightly.

"Yep, as far as I can infer, this Dane guy has had his eyes set on little Lord Brat for a long time," Josak answered. He sounded more laid back than he felt. It bothered him that he couldn't figure out a profile for this guy.

"How does he even know Wolfram?"

"Young Master Yuuri went to see Her Majesty Beatrice and Dane happened to see Lord Brat from afar and got obsessed, as far as I can tell."

Conrart stopped and turned to his friend. Josak also stopped. It was hard to believe that his infatuation was Dane's only motivation in attacking Shin Makoku. Josak couldn't find anything else that could have sent the man over the edge. Maybe it was partially because of some childhood resentment of mazoku from living so close to the border through less peaceful times. But Dane was a human. He couldn't have been alive for very long, and Shin Makoku had peaceful relations with Cavalcade for nearly Yuuri's entire rein.

Conrart opened his mouth to speak. No sound emerged. He was cut off by the door opening on his left. Gwendal stood in the frame, eyes shadowed by his creased brow. He glared out at the two soldiers as if they had awoken him, though he wore his uniform which suggested that he as well hadn't been asleep.

"Commander," Josak greeted. Gwendal nodded in acknowledgement.

"Gwen? Is everything alright?" Conrart asked. Gwendal looked at his brother. His expression was hard and unreadable as always. He revealed nothing.

"Don't you think it's a little quiet?" the commander asked.

* * *

_Wolfram's blood ran cold as if his system had been flooded with icy water_

* * *

He would give his everything to protect the Maoh; he would give his everything to serve Shin Makoku; but he _could not_ open himself entirely and leave himself vulnerable. Should his heart break again, Wolfram suspected that it would be incurable. It would kill him. _Yuuri_ would kill him. He could give his everything to Shin Makoku, but he could not give his heart to her king again.

And yet, as he stood in the hallway, facing off with the king, his resolve wavered. Neither he nor Yuuri had spoken for minutes. Neither he nor Yuuri had moved to exit the hall. Wolfram was acutely aware of the guards stationed in the hallway. They gave no indication of having noticed the standoff between the two mazoku, but Wolfram knew they were watching intently. Probably, they were silently snickering at him—little Lord Brat ran away, got arrested, and then stood around pathetically waiting for Yuuri to tell him he could still sleep with him. They would gossip it to the other soldiers and to the maids. Wolfram would never be able to show his face again.

"Wolf," Yuuri started quietly.

The noble took note of how Yuuri's eyes flicked over Wolfram's shoulder to the guards. Of the two of them, it would be less influential if Wolfram took the hit. There didn't need to be any rumors making rounds that the Maoh bowed to one of his subordinates, particularly to Wolfram when the recent attacks involved or at least implicated him.

"Is there anything else you require of me tonight, Your Majesty?" Wolfram asked. His voice was hard, his back straight, his head high. Yuuri flinched. Wolfram told himself that he didn't appreciate the effect.

Yuuri bit his lip nervously. He was being ridiculous, he knew. The Maoh couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his gut that Wolfram would run again if he let the blonde out of his sight. Not that he even understood why that nagging feeling upset him. Surely, Wolfram would choose what would make him the happiest, and Yuuri wanted Wolfram to be happy; so if the blonde chose to leave again now that he was free to do what he wished, Yuuri should be happy for him, right? He should want the best for Wolfram, and yet, he felt selfish instead.

Yuuri leaned into Wolfram's body. The noble fought the instinct to back away.

"Wolfram, listen," Yuuri whispered. Wolfram shifted so that his legs were slightly spread, his hands clasped behind his hips. It was an official stance, one of the many that the Maoh typically saw on a daily basis—at ease, at attention, salute. It was impersonal. It created space between the two of them that Yuuri wanted to close.

Yuuri didn't like not knowing what others were thinking. It was the reason he disliked dolphins. They were intelligent, but he couldn't read them. At the moment, Wolfram was a dolphin.

"If there is no more you require of me, Your Majesty, I will retire for the night," Wolfram curtly interrupted. The subject was closed. Yuuri looked into his friend's eyes pleadingly. There was no change on Wolfram's face.

"Thank you, Lord von Bielefeld," Yuuri replied. His voice was strained, the calm forced. It was a façade of regular formality. Wolfram bowed his head.

The double black king turned and entered his bedroom alone. The blonde soldier turned and entered the room down the hall.

Yuuri needed more time to think.

* * *

_The effect was a mane that seemed to emit light of its own accord_

* * *

The street was silent; as was the city; as was all of Shin Makoku. Even the soldier who stood guard at the end of the road was asleep where he stood. The criminal crept along the side of the road, staying close to the buildings and shadows. It couldn't hurt to be careful. He peered into shop window after shop window, searching for one he could use. Baker's, Shoemaker…

How could he successfully change his appearance without leaving traces in his wake? He could get away without changing his eye color. At the least, he needed to change his hair and he needed different clothes. Woodworker's, Blacksmith…

He needed a simple dye, one that wouldn't be hard to put in his hair on the street. He needed one that wouldn't require washing to set. He needed something that would color his hair quickly—instant. Because of his light natural color, if he risked using some dyes, the result would look unnatural—it would look like what it was: dyed. Potter's, Grocery.

Gazing through the window of the grocery, the blonde man's plan began to shape properly. His father would sometimes use vegetable dyes to color ropes and things around the property—purples from certain berries and cabbage, greens from spinach, reds from beets.

He looked around as far as he could see from the window. Most of the inventory lay where it clearly did during the day. He saw onions and potatoes and carrots under the window. Berries were on the far side of the shop, but he couldn't see the types. Heads of lettuce sat out beside the onions. From the ceiling hung various herbs.

Then he saw them. Hanging from the edge of the window were bunches of beets. He grinned. Beets would change his appearance enough. However, the window didn't budge when he attempted to shift it. He searched for alternative means of breaking in. The door was locked. He hadn't a method of prying it open.

The glass shattered with a beautiful crash. He climbed through the opening before anyone in a house along the street decided to check out the sound. He took the rock he used on the window and the bundle of beets. Quickly, he searched the store, finding a sickle in the store room. He climbed out the window, and made his way back to the potter's shop. With the rock, he smashed the second window. He snagged a bowl from the window display.

He disappeared along the dark streets, heading towards the water pump he had noticed along the city wall while sneaking to the stable with Greta. He pumped water out into the bowl. Throwing in the beets, he set about crushing the juice out of them with his rock. He mashed the beets into pulp. The water turned a ruddy pink.

When he was satisfied with the color he leaned forward, pouring the mixture on his head over the street. He ran his fingers through his hair massaging the dye into the strands. He pumped water over his fingertips, working the dye off his hands, cupping the water and washing the dye off his neck.

One more stop in a clothing shop and his transformation would be complete. Just as Dane was no more, Daniel would vanish from existence. He could take on a new name, a new identity, and move about freely. He would blend back in with the refugees as a new man.

He stood and returned to the temporary refugee tents, sliding in to different one than he had left earlier in the night. He could implement the next step of his plan. Wolfram was nearly his, and he didn't care how many identities he had to burn through to get his angel.

* * *

Word Count:3,600


End file.
